Against All Odds
by nowshutupandeatyourpears
Summary: When he lets her go in the arena, he sets off a chain of events he never could have seen coming. But will the odds ever be in their favor? Katniss/Cato
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This is the first story I have uploaded on this site, and also my first _Hunger Games_s story so I hope you enjoy it! It will be rated M for later chapters, but we have to get there first (; Obviously with these two it isn't just going to happen in the arena. Anyway enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I in no way own Hunger Games. Only the original situations and storyline my story will take are my own. Thank you!**

* * *

><p>I stand still on the edge of the woods, hidden in the shadows of a large oak tree. The only noise I am making comes from the shallow breaths I'm taking, in and out. In and out. I keep quiet, listening for any sound of a stray tribute. A snap of a stick, the rustle of the grass. I feel the comforting weight of the sword at my side. My fingers twitch to use it. How long has it been since I have faced one of the tributes by myself? I long for a kill, knowing that is what is expected of me back home. I need to provide them with their entertainment. I need to earn my honor. This is what I have been trained to be since the age of five. A lethal, dangerous killer.<p>

I take silent inventory of my body while I stretch my stiff muscles. I've gotten out relatively lightly on injuries so far, considering the blistering fire and being attacked by tracker jackers. There's a large burn on my back, but it's only second degree. At least it will make a good story when I get home and can show off my scars. I still can't feel my cheek where the tracker jacker got me. I had enough sense to pull the stinger out, but I didn't know enough about the insects to know what herbs in the forest help to treat the venom.

All things considered though, I feel good. My mentor, Brutus, finally took pity on me last night and sent Clove and I something to eat. After having our supplies destroyed, we were living off of plant roots. Brutus is not the type to be generous with gifts. But I suppose he figured a good meal before the impending confrontations with the other tributes might give us the edge we needed. I personally think I still would have had edge only living on roots.

As I wait, I feel the wind moving softly through my hair. I can identify the smell of nightlock and a slight scent of ginseng in the breeze. I lean closer into the oak, blending even further into the shadows. I close my eyes, letting my ears feel out the woods for me.

* * *

><p><em>"I'll be right back, Cato," she had said, securing the long knives in her jacket before bending down to lace up her boots, making sure they were secure. There was no room for error.<em>

_"Just hurry back," I had said, helping her off of the ground. "We need whatever is in that pack to take out the Love Birds. And the sooner we can take them out and be done with this game the better. I'm tired of sleeping on the ground."_

_"Spoiled baby," Clove teased, but I knew that she understood what I meant._

_"Just think about it Cato." her eyes filled with longing. "We'll be the first dual victors in the history of the arena. We're going to both be welcomed home like heroes. Imagine the honor this will bring to District 2. We can find a nice house in the Victor's Village that we can share. Everybody will want us to be their mentors."_

_I nodded slightly, observing my closest friend through analyzing eyes. Since birth it had been expected that Clove and I would be wed and produce good strong children to go to the reaping. I had never known it another way. It just had been bad luck that the panel had chosen the two of us to go into the arena in the same year. But when the announcement had been made that there would be a new rule and that two winners from the same district would be allowed to share the title, a weight had lifted from my shoulders. Was it because she was my best friend? Certainly. Not to say that I wouldn't have killed her like the rest of the tributes if it had come down to the two of us. But there would have been some regret attached to her death, that wouldn't have been there with anyone else._

_"Let's forget the daydream now and focus on reality," I said, combing her over with my eyes, making sure not a hair is out of place that would jeaprodize her chances of coming back swiftly and in one piece. "I'll be standing by just in case one decides to come by towards the stream. Call if you need me, but I would expect you could take any of them out easily. Just make sure to stay out of range of Lovergirl's bow, okay?"_

_What I didn't say in so many words, was for her to be careful. Clove had nodded, accepting my orders without hesitation. I knew that she respected my authority. Power. It was one of the things that she found so attractive about me. Although, in all honesty, I would never let my guard down around her. She was wicked with those knives. She reached up and kissed my cheek softly. "I'll be quick. I love you Cato."_

_I didn't reply, just grunted in response. She nodded towards me and then turned around and loped into the clearing._

* * *

><p>Now I stand just out of sight of the clearing, straining my ears for any clue of what is going on. Clove should be heading back by now. She's been gone for over ten minutes, and there was no way it should be taking this long.<p>

The only one I really worry about her over was the one from District 11. He definitely has her in the strength department, but he would need to catch her as she is quicker than him, I'm not too caught up about it. She's constantly on guard.

I feel anger tighten in my chest. Every second those dogs from Districts 11 and 12 stand in his my of victory cause my hatred of them to grow even more. Those mongrels shouldn't be even allowed to compete in the games. They are all savages who didn't know what they were doing any more than I would know what to do in a bakery. They don't deserve to be here. They don't deserve the honor and privelage.

The seconds tick by and I find myself growing what I expect might be anxious. My fingers twitch impatiently by my side and I inch closer towards the edge of the woods, keeping every one of my senses alert. I am so tense, I nearly startle as a rabbit darts out of a nearby bush.

Distracted, I watch it bound away, almost tempted to throw my spear after it. But I am snapped back to attention by the sounds of bloodcurdling screams coming from the clearing. The sound of my name. Fear. No, terror.

_Clove._

"No, it wasn't me!" she is screaming. I can't see her! What is going on? "Cato!_ Cato! HELP_!"

I immedietly take off at a full sprint toward the shrieks, and the feast comes into view just in time for me to see the gigantic tribute from District 11 bring a rock the size of a brick down on Clove's skull.

Rage consumes my entire body. I see red. "Clove!" I roar, charging towards the dark skinned tribute who has abandoned Clove's limp body on the ground and is instead picking up the girl from District 12, grunting something towards her in broken English.

I am still yards away when the other tribute, I think they called him Thresh, panic, finally zeroing in on my approach. He drops the girl from 12 on the ground before grabbing two backpacks, one marked 2 and the other marked 11, and charging off towards the field. The girl on fire falls to the ground, knocking her head on the large stone. She doesn't get up. I pay no attention to her.

My attention is called to another dilemma. Every muscle in my bloodthirsty body screams to follow Thresh and teach him a lesson for hurting Clove. But as I look down towards the girl at my feet, I ignore my insticts and drop to my knees beside her. Something like shock seizes me as I look down at the crumpled shell of what has been my best friend for 13 years. As much as I had convinced myself that I could have killed her just as easily as anybody else, it was now clear that was untrue.

She is shaking, a heart piercing moan slipping from her lips. A trail of saliva is hanging from the corner of her mouth and there is blood seeping out of her left ear. I turn her head slightly, examining her injury. The dent is about the size of my clenched fist and about a half an inch deep. I know that there is no helping her. There's no coming back from an injury this bad to a vital point like the temple.

I grab her hand and pull her into my arms. I know nothing I can do can hurt her now. She is beyond being able to feel pain. A side of me I don't know takes over. I don't want her to die alone and scared. I can at least hold her.

"Stay with me, Clove," my voice comes out as more of a plea than I had intended it to. Weaker than I should ever let it be. But I can't help it. "Please...I'll fix you, I promise."

Now that my guard is down, a mix of emotions threatens to overtake me. A small part of me is scared to face the rest of the games with no more allies, which I have grown accustomed to. I feel a large sense of injustice. How unfair it seems to be enticed with the possibility of leaving the arena with Clove, only to have it taken away from me by someone who will never be the victor anyway.

I don't expect all of these feelings. I have been trained to shut them down. Convinced myself that death is just a part of life, and that people dying is just a part of the arena. Just like animals. How was it seemed so simple with all the other tributes that had fallen at my hands? I don't know how to react to these whirlwind of emotions.

Clove's green eyes look towards me, but there is no life left behind them. I can tell that she is almost gone, and can barely even comprehend the fact that I am sitting there right beside her.

"Goddamn it Clove!" I say, fighting off the urge to shake her. Memories of our childhood together that I have forced myself n\ot to think about since the reaping are rushing through my head. Practicing sword fighting, learning how to identify herbs. Clove's parents waking us up after we had fallen asleep discussing tactics of how to place first in competitons in our training classes. I had known there was only a small chance that she would have outlived me once the games started. But the pain in seeing her slowly die is more than I can handle right now. Even years of training my emotions hasn't been strong enough to fight this one off.

"Please don't leave me…_ Please_…" But I know that she is past hearing my pleas.

Somewhere in the back of my mind I know how I must look to the audience and to my friends and family back home. Vulnerable. Lovesick. But that isn't what this is at all. I feel like this is the first time that death has really slapped me in the face, and it is leaving a stinging handprint. It's not that anyone close to me has never died before either. But this is the first time I actually realize what is happening, I think. Because the only person I have ever trusted in my entire life is in my arms, breathing her last breaths.

With one final twitch, Clove grows still in my arms, and I know that she is gone. I draw her empty body up to mind and hug her one last time, before laying her back down on the ground. Still on my knees, I throw back my head and let out a bellow of anguish so loud, it makes the mockingjays in the trees nearby start to sing the menacing melody as well. This is good. It is fearsome enough to let any nearby competitors know that I am still vicious and angrier than ever. I'm glad that even in my emotional state, no tears have escaped my eyes. I can't remember having ever cried in my life. And today isn't that day.

A small moan close to me sobers me from my rage induced state. It comes from the girl on fire, who I have all but forgotten in my fruitless attempt to save Clove. She must have awakened from her unconscious state.

I am on her in a second, reaching for my sword and pinning her to the ground. I iwas intending to save all my rage for hunting down Thresh, but a little warm up wonlt hurt, and I really need to take care of the threat that was Katniss Everdeen sooner or later. So now was an optimal time.

She struggles against me, but it was hopeless. I am twice her weight and every inch of my body is solid muscle. I press my arm against her throat, effectively cutting off the air in her windpipe. I abandon reaching for my sword. I decide instantaneously to make this kill with nothing but the anger and sheer strength in my hands. I notice the cut on her forehead dripping blood into her eyes, and feel another wave of pain overtake me. The cut is from Clove, and thinking of Clove just causes me to add more pressure to her throat.

Her struggling grows feebler as she gasps for breath that she cannot find. I feel a sick sense of satisfaction as her attempts to throw me off weaken. But right as I am sure she was living her last seconds, she looks straight into my eyes.

The desperate fear filled eyes cause me to think of Clove's desperate pleas that he was too late to answer. But instead of anger at this thought of Clove, a repulsion of death comes instead and I find myself wrenching away from the girl, rolling to the dust towards her side. I stand shakily, fearing my knees won't support me.

She lays on the ground, air filling her parched lungs. She curls defensively, fear and confusion in her eyes as she looks up at me, clearly expecting me to lunge again with a different weapon. She seems as surprised as I am when I back away. What is causing me to act like this?

"What… Why?" She gasps, and it makes me furious. How stupid is she? I've shown a weakness and she hasn't pounced on it yet.O should just kill her, with all her incompetence. But here I am, unable to do it.. I take a stride towards her, and grip her shirtfront. Her bow clatters to the ground, as it falls out of her hand. Picking her up, I look her straight in the eye, my jaw clenched. My hands itch to wrap around her throat and finish what I started, but I find that I can't.

"Get out of here, Fire Girl," I spit in her face, tossing her away. "Count your lucky stars I feel like playing with my food a little longer before ending these games."

I hope that sounds tough and menacing, and not like a weakling who doesn't have it in him to kill his number one competitor in the game. Like I have a legitimate reason for not killing her right now. But the truth is, I can't take ending the life of someone as desperate as Clove was in her last moments. I hope back home they are cheering me on for the extended entertainment instead of thinking I've gone soft in the skull.

I bend down and pick her bow up. Using little effort, I crack it cleanly in two. It won't do me any good to get shot in the back while I head towards the field to hunt down the large tribute from District 11.

She hasn't left yet. She is still staring at me, as if not knowing what to do. She probably thinks there's a catch, and I don't blame her. To her, it probably seems I am acting totally out of character. It seems that way to me too. Our eyes meet, and for a second, the reason I saved her is more than just because I can't stand the thought of dying right now. For a second, as I look deep into her eyes and notice the soft curves of her face and body, it was because I wanted to save her. Because she deserved to live more than me. But then the second passes.

"_GO_!" I nearly scream at her, lunging towards her and kicking dust in her face. Looking at her is making me sick. Whatever sense of self-preservation she has left kicks in and she turns and high-tails it out of the meadow, after stopping to retrieve the backpack with her district number embroidered on it.

I watch her go and it sinks in that I just let her escape. A wave of humiliation overtakes me. What have I done? I just let my enemy run away from me. I had her and I let her go. I'm sure back in District 2, I am getting bets taken off of me. I only hope they understand when I get back. I get a feeling that I will not be recieving any parachutes from Brutus tonight.

I bottle up my sudden thirst to kill something and turn back to Clove. I reach down and run my hand over her cheek. Her face is clammy, as her body cools. I lean down and kiss her forehead, closing her eyes at the same time. She could be sleeping. This is the last sentimental gesture I will ever let myself make. But she deserves it for having my back the entire game. Even at her own peril.

"I'm gonna win this for you, Clove." I mean it.

I turn and sprint full force towards the tall grasses where Thresh disappeared to. As I run, I obliterate whatever emotional part of me was revealed in the clearing. Emotions make you weak. They make you let your enemy go. I shake my head a few times, and all the confusing feelings disappear. Revenge is the only thing that makes sense right now, and I intend to get it. The softer, human version of Cato is dead. I have suffocated it. Only the cold-hearted killer remains.

* * *

><p><strong>I'd love to hear what you think so far! Thank you (:<strong>


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you all for showing interest in my writing (: I'm glad that you're enjoying it so far. I've managed to finish another chapter, so I hope you enjoy it. Unfortunately, I might not always be able to update as quickly, but I'm going to do my best! Sorry if this chapter seems rushed, I'm trying to get through what I consider is the intro and get on to rest of the story.**

**Anyway, enjoy the new installment! Let me know what you think!**

* * *

><p><em>"And the male tribute will be... Cato Verrucosus." I felt pride. I was starving for my chance in the arena. Maybe that's why they call them the Hunger Games. I walked towards the panel who handpicked the tributes going to represent District 2 in the arena. I was everything they wanted. Handsome, to rival Finnick Odair. Strong to rival Brutus. Cunning to rival Johanna Mason. Able to kill as well as any tribute in the past. I was going to be the winner. It wasn't an option.<em>

_I approached the men and women who had so carefully watched me train over the past years. There was pride in some of their eyes, respect in others. I felt a smirk come to my lips. They should respect and fear me. I could analyze a thousand different ways to end their lives in a millisecond. And I was capable of carrying them out. But I would save that for the arena._

_"No!" A voice shouted from the crowd. I recognized the voice. Sobbing, as usual."Please, don't take him from me."_

_The Peacekeeper's voice was harsh. "Stay back ma'am. This is none of your concern."_

_"None of my concern?" she shouted. I'm sure her eyes were wild. But they had been for years. Nobody paid much attention to her. Especially me. "That is my son! He is my concern! Please you can't send him to his death! He's only a child."_

_I was livid. How dare she insult me? A child? She didn't even know me. She never paid any heed to me before. She was an absent mother. Never praising me for excelling at his training, never noticing my obvious skills. Only staring out the window weeping. For years. Don't tears eventually run out? I knew that my pity for her had._

_The panel of selectors looked curiously between my mother and I. They wondered if I was weak enough to go back towards her. If I was indeed just a child._

_I never even turned around to look at her._

_"Please, you've already taken one from me! Don't take him too..." The crowd was murmuring, a hushed noise. The name on everybody's tongues? Marcus Verrucosus. Anger coursed through me. This was my moment. She was taking it away from me._

_"Cato, this is not who you are. You are not a murderer."_

_"You're right." I said, slowly turning to face the crowd. "I am not a murderer. But I am a killer. And I will be a winner."_

_Thunderous applause. Cheers from the entire crowd and the panel behind me. I barely even noticed the horrified look on her face._

* * *

><p>My head hurts. My limbs are stiff. Meaning I have been asleep too long. I awake with a jolt, completely dismissing the dream I had about my mother. It is of no concern to me. My stomach grumbles and I reach over and grab a portion of the bread that Brutus sent me the previous night. The food tastes delicious in my mouth. The night after the feast, I didn't receive any parachutes, which was expected. Weakness is not rewarded in District 2.<p>

But I guess I earned my mentor's, and probably my fan's, favor back last night after slaughtering District 11. I was rewarded with a loaf of bread and some wild rice soup. A specialty of Clove's mother. I guess she wanted to thank me for avenging Clove's death.  
>It wasn't hard to find Thresh. He had tried to take shelter from the storm in the woods, and didn't bother to cover his trails. Tracking him was like tracking a clumsy giant. There was broken sticks and matted down grass that clearly stated every step he had taken. It led me right to him. He didn't hear my approach, because I was in stealthy hunger mode, and because the thunder and harsh winds helped to cover any excess noise I might have been making. He was sitting with his backpack in front of him. And mine. I couldn't see what was in his backpack. Didn't care. A swift cut to the jugular vein with my sword insured he would not be needing whatever was in his survival kit. The cannon fired at almost the exact time that I pounced on him.<p>

Luckily the rain had washed the blood off my sword. I didn't even have to clean it. Saved me a lot of time.

In my own backpack, there is a sheer black suit. I tried stabbing it with my sword last night. Impenetrable. I'm sure it was arrow proof. Although I doubt I'll be needing arrow proof armor anymore because I snapped District 12's bow last night so unless she can whip up a makeshift bow, I'm in no danger of arrows. And I doubt she would make a bow anyway. The limbs in the forest aren't pliable enough to sustain a good amount of flight.

But it's better to be safe than to be sorry, as they always say. So after I wipe the crumbs from my face, I cram myself into the skin tight suit and then pull my arena clothes on over it. The only parts of me not covered are my feet, my hands, and my head. But those are the easily defended areas. I feel powerful. Unstoppable.

I'm going to win this game, and I'm going to do it today. If the Gamemakers don't force us together today, which my gut tells me they will, I will hunt them down. I'm ready to go home and earn my rightful place in the Victor's Village.

A pang of yesterday's overwhelming emotions hit me as I remember Clove's dream that we live together in a mansion in the village. That will never happen now that she's gone... I snap myself out of it. There's no room for me to give in to human emotions today. I am a killer.

"Only three more stand in your way, Cato," I coach myself.

But almost as soon as the words leave my lips, a cannon rings out. I jump, a little bit surprised. How ironic. I imagined I was going to have to be the one to get rid of the other three. They all seem to soft to me to kill the others. Maybe the She-bird offed the He-bird. I grin at the thought. I wonder how the crowd would like that. They'll probably be starting riots.

I stretch my arms, shaking the last bit of sleep out of my limbs. No better time to go finish the game than the present. I creep to the opening of the cave. I close my eyes, listening to make sure there are no footsteps around. I can hear the mockingjays chattering back and forth. And just over them, I can make out the quiet hum of what sounds like another nest of tracker jackets nearby. My hand flies to my cheek, which is still throbbing slightly. With that nasty reminder of the danger in the forests, I think it is time I take my leave.  
>I slink out of the cave and into the trees, darting from shadow to shadow. I move quickly, looking for any trace of other tributes having passed through, but I don't find any. I quickly lose track of time, and of my location. It's easy to get lost and look over the same place more than once in a vast forest like this one.<p>

An eerie darkness begins to fall, but I know this is all wrong. It can't be past midday, but yet, the sun is being covered by an ominous looking dark. Looks like my gut feeling was right. The Gamemakers are up to something. They're tiring of the game almost as much as us tributes are. I shake my head. There's no 'us' in this game. There's me and the mongrels I need to get rid of to get out of her.

Suddenly, I hear a crackling in the woods not far behind me. My motions cease immediately and I press myself against a tree trunk, trying to pinpoint where the sound came from. It's ahead and to my right, and from the sounds, there is something... no a group of something's moving through the woods. I hear quiet growls being emitted from the area. What in the devil's name have been thrown into the game with us?  
>I can't bring myself to feel worried. My new armor gives me a sense of protection. If arrows and swords can't get through it, then surely neither can any animal, fearsome or not.<p>

The pack doesn't seem to realize that I am near, and I hear them creeping away, towards the clearing with the cornucopia in it. Of course that's where the final battle will be taking place. No trees in the way. Just me, the other two tributes, and whatever creatures have been added to make the show more entertaining.

I hear a howl and a more fearsome growl farther ahead of me. The pack has caught wind of something. Most likely a someone. I freeze, hoping that it is not me. But as the feet continue moving away from me, I know it is not. Probably the remaining two tributes. I move forward with the pack, an unnoticed addition. I am eager to discover the other tributes before the pack truly notices me.

I am not as fast as the pack and they reach the boy and girl from District 12 long before I do. But I easily hear the shriek that the girl on fire produces as they come down on her. They seem to be some kind of mutant dogs, only stronger and faster and more lethal than any dog I have ever come across. And then the yell of the Loverboy comes as he dives straight into the mess to save her. His leg seems to be better. I feel a sneer come on my face. That'll teach me not to go back and finish something I started. I was certain he would bleed to death.

I decide to get ahead of the game and move towards the clearing. I'm sure this is where the Gamemakers want us to go, and the only logical place for safety is on top of the Cornucopia. Who knows if the dogs can climb trees. But I'm guessing they cannot climb metal, as they had to give us some advantage. I'll just let the mutants do their work to the Lovebirds, and if they make it out alive, they can join me on top of the cornucopia for a real battle.

Soon, I am in the clearing and I easily scale the side of the metal contraption. Climbing up trees may not be my strength, but my training has prepared me for scaling up the sides of many objects that can hold my weight. I settle myself in on the gray metal and wait.  
>Before too long, a cannon goes off. My bets are that the mutts finally got the boy. I'm<p>

guessing he would sacrifice himself to save the girl at all costs. I didn't get that vibe so much from Katniss Everdeen in the interviews.

I hear snarls coming closer and crane my head around, trying to see if my hypothesis is correct. And sure enough, within a minutes time, the girl is sprinting out of the trees and heading towards me. So it is down to us. If I would have just let my hands clench a little tighter two days before, I wouldn't have even needed to be spending these extra minutes to finish the job. The title would have been mine.

But because I let her go, now I must kill her for real. I hope she isn't expecting me to show mercy this time. Because she's not getting it. Not this time. There is only one victor.  
>She gets close enough to the cornucopia that I back away, observing from an angle that I know she can't see me from. The dogs are close behind her, howling and snapping. Tears are streaming down her face, and she looks hollow. As hollow as I felt yesterday with Clove's passing. My heartbeat picks up, and I feel a strange feeling, pity almost, as I try to shut my heart down, to stomp it into the dust as I did the day before. But it manages to make me squirm nonetheless.<p>

I crouch on the side of the cornucopia opposite from where I know she will make her descent. I can't look at her right now. I can't allow human feelings to risk my shot of winning this game. She needs to become the scoundrel from District 12 again. The one who outranked me in scoring. The one who has been stealing my thunder every day since this tournament started.

The thought process works. By the time that she joins me on the top, rage is streaming through me. I deserve this title. I have worked hard to earn it. She was just a random face who decided to play hero. I saw the video feed of her taking place of her sister. Her sister wouldn't have lasted past day one in the arena. But now Katniss will take her sister's place. She will die like her sister would have.

I lunge at her, but she must have been expecting me to be up here with her, because she quickly pivots to the side. I manage to knock her off balance, but she sidesteps me again so that I go right past her. I see she has the knife that Clove threw at her on the first day in her hand. It will be as useless as a feather against my armor.

I fly at her again, and although she dodges, I am ready for it, and I grab at her ankle as she flies past me. She falls hard against the unrelenting metal, and I extend my leg, halting my momentum and I leap on top of her, pinning her down. She manages to land a good kick to my stomach before I hold her legs down with my own, but it barely even winds me.  
>And there we are, back to where we were just days before. She is at my mercy. I pull her hands above her head with one hand, and reach for my sword with the other. At the same time, I try and decide how I should kill her. Should I make it quick and painless? Or should I drag it out to prove to her that I really did just want to play with my food.<p>

But as I am trying to decide, I make the same mistake I did the day before. I look directly into her eyes. What I see there is different from the day before. I see pain and fear, of course. But I also see acceptance. She knows she is going to die. And she wants to do it gracefully. She wants to show that she is not going to beg for mercy, or fight anymore. She is ready to accept her fate.

And for some reason, that is the final straw for my perfect lock on my emotions. They hit me with a reeling force. The dominant one being that, I do not want her to die. The small sliver of it the day before is fierce now. How can I take a person's life, when they seem so strong. So much better than me, who does it for sport. I leap off of her, and quickly leap to my feet.

I stumble from the weight of the realization. It is upturning my whole life. My training, my lessons. My very being. I have found the one person in all of Panem that I can't kill. And she is the only one standing in my way of freedom.

"But what freedom is it?" Who is speaking those words? It's my voice, but I don't feel like I have control of it. I am trembling. "I kill you, or I am killed. What kind of way to live is that? Tell me why! Why can't I please my district... please the capital without killing you?"

She is staring me like I am a crazy person. Because that is what I have become just like my mother. Maybe psychosis runs in the family.

"Cato." Her voice speaking my name sounds so sweet, and I stumble backwards. "Cato, just-"

But I never hear the rest of what she was going to say to me. I have stepped too close to the edge of the cornucopia, and my shaking throws me off balance. I am suddenly tumbling down, down and I land with a thud at the mouth.

The pack is on me in a second. And the armor that was supposed to protect me against them becomes a cruel joke. Because they are biting at my body, tearing at my hands. I'm sure that my legs have ripped off. Their teeth gnash at my skull. But yet, I cannot be killed because they cannot reach the most important and quickest ways to kill me.

I quickly lose the sensation of feeling anything but pain, pain, pain. I have never felt such pain in my entire life. I think I hear a scream in the background, but I can't tell if its mine or not. Somewhere through the fury of teeth and claws and fur, I think see Clove's eyes. But they don't make sense to be embedded in the face of a mutant dog.

It hurts. More than hurts. I am on fire! Every bit of me is engulfed. Why won't death come?

I don't know how long the dogs tear at me. Surely I am dead, but the nightmare keeps on going. Torture. Pain. I know there is nothing worth saving left on me. Eventually, the dogs leave, tired of the boy who just won't stop breathing. A flash of my mother's face enters my head. Oh mother, don't look now. You're losing another son.

_Black and red._

I swim in and out of consciousness. During one period of awareness, I see the girl on fire standing over me. But she doesn't know what real fire is, because I am the one who has been immersed in it now. I open my mouth, begging. I am past pride. I just want her to stop the hurting. Please let her be merciful, because I unintentionally showed her mercy twice now. "_Please..."_

_Black and blue._

"Trust me." Something cool is being pressed to my lips. I recognize the smell, but I can't place it. I can't even open my eyes anymore to see what it is. Why won't death just come and take me?

_Black and purple._

On my last bought of consciousness, I can barely hear the words, "_Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the victors of the 74th Hunger Games, Cato Verrucosus and Katniss Everdeen!"_ But they might as well be speaking gibberish for all the meaning I can pull out of them.

Then something is lifting what's left of me up, my torn and tattered body, and I am floating.

_And then black. Endless black._

* * *

><p><strong>Yeah so Peeta died ): Sorry all you Peeta fans, I'm a fan myself. But let's be honest, he would get in the way of a CatoKatniss love story. Even I can't write an ending to the story where Peeta gets his heart broken because Katniss runs off with some other guy. Who could be so cruel? ;D So I had to get him out easy per se. I'll derive on his death, and explain it a little better so bear with me. **

**Hold on for more chapters. I'd love to hear your thoughts!**


	3. Chapter 3

**So the beginning of this chapter is gonna seem reallllyyyy weird to you. But I had fun writing it so I want to include it. Cato is slipping in and out of some crazy dreams because he is hurt so bad while the doctors operate on him. I'm trying to make it clear, but just in case you don't catch it. There you go. Thanks! (:**

* * *

><p>I am dead, so shouldn't that mean that the pain should stop? Apparently not. It is there, like little black bugs, eating at me. I suppose my legs didn't get torn off like I thought, because I can feel every agonizing inch of them. Along with the rest of my body. But even excruciating pain becomes tolerable after a while. That's part of my training. Thinking around pain. It feels as if I am perpetually engulfed in red hot flames, but my body has been burned down to the bone, so there is barely feeling in it anyway.<p>

I sometimes think I can hear someone talking to me, but I can't see anything or anyone so it dies down to an annoying buzz at the back of my head. There are louder things going on in here. Strange people with only noses on their faces, with holes instead of eyes. And flashes of bright color. Neon orange, green, magenta. People in the Capitol are walking around, but the newest fashion statement is wearing hair that has beehives full of tracker jackers on top.

And then I'm walking on the ceiling of the training center, watching Caesar Flickerman doing cartwheels down below. His hair is orange and red polka dots. He is going on and on about the arena, and how menacing I look dangling over him. I can't help but laugh, feeling giddy. He turns into President Snow whose lips are blown up to balloon size. President Snow then turns into Thresh, who turns into Clove, who turns into Brutus. I am spinning on the ceiling and Brutus is yelling at me to come down, telling me that I'm not acting like a District 2 tribute, who walk on the ground.

But then I'm walking through the forest again, but I'm two hundred feet tall. Everybody can see me! They're going to target me first. I go to duck to cover my face. I try to hide behind the tallest trees, but they only come up to my knees. I have a splitting headache. It's hard to think of how to survive when my head is being cleaved in two.

All the sudden I am tumbling to the ground. I can see something down below, and in the speed of light I zero in. It's my brother. Marcus. He's being attacked by vicious looking shadows. His eyes are black orbs, and his hair is turning different colors, gold to green. Green to blue. Blue to purple. He's screaming! I need to save him! I try to sprint towards him. I am on fire, so surely I can dispell the shadows. But I can't move my body, and all the sudden the pain flares up to the point where it is unbearable again. I'm sorry Marcus, I couldn't save you. I'm sorry, Mother, for letting him die.

The darkness returns.

And in the darkness, I can concentrate more on the voices around me.

"Quick! Hand me that scalpel!" An unidentified one yells. "His vital signs are failing, hurry!"

Hurry scurry murry curry. Words are warping themselves through my brain. I feel like laughing again, but somehow I know it's not the appropriate time to do so. So I just lay there, feeling new sharp pricks of cold metal and stabs of knives. They feel like feathers against my already charred skin.

After what seems like along time, the pain slowly starts to ebb away. Maybe I am finally dying. That would be sweet relief. Who wants to live as a giant hunk of raw meat anyway? I hear the voice again, but I am underwater, and it's hard to make out the words.

"Alright, we've done all we can do. The rest is up to him."

I sink back into a painless sleep. What sweet bliss. Katniss Everdeen is standing before me, fire all around her. Suddenly, I am glad for all the pain. I am glad that I am dead, because that means that she lived. Although it wasn't a true sacrifice, I'm glad I could take her place. I'm glad that she won the games. She deserved to live so much more for me.

We are standing in what I assume is District 12. We are standing in front of a rather crowded town center. How are the flames not burning her? I realize its because the flames have already burned me, so of course she is untouched. President Snow is standing on a stage, reaching his hand into a large fishbowl.

"And the female tribute will be," he says, his Captitol accent ringing clear through the area. He has hate in his eyes. He doesn't like the poor Seam girl in front of him."Katniss Everdeen."

"No!" I find myself yelling. I am pushing her down so that I can stand in front of her. The most important thing, the reason for my very being is to protect her now. "I volunteer! I volunteer as tribute!"

And then she is looking at me like I'm a crazy person. We are on top of the cornucopia and I have just made a half deranged speech about freedom. I see pieces of the arena, breaking and floating to the ground, just like my world has just shattered all around me.

"Cato-" her sweet voice starts, and then I am tumbling into the crowd of spectators that has formed below. And the dogs are on me! And they're tearing me apart again! Why does everybody just stand around, why don't any of them offer me help? Can't they see I'm being massacred?

Burnburnburn. I am burning alive, all over again. I wonder if it's humanly possible for bodies to smoke. Because I bet mine is.

A indefinite amount of time passes. It could be seconds. It could be years, I really can't tell. Eventually the pain starts to break again and I become a little more aware of what is going on. I can hear noises of people walking around me. I feel every fiber in my body, it seems like. There's a slight pressure on my hand that distracts me from the fire there for a second. I can pick up different smells. Disinfectant, holly, and a gingery smell that my house back in District 2 smells like sometimes. I find comfort in it.

I can't open my eyes. It's as if someone has tied weights to them, and it is impossible for me to even blink. I feel almost as if I'm disconnected from my body. I know I'm not dead, I can feel my chest slowly rising up and down. I can hear my heart pounding weakly in my ears. But I can't seem to shake off whatever heavy cloak of sleep and pain that is holding me down.

There is a soft snuffling sound beside me. Is somebody crying? Maybe in terror. I feel like I would be pretty ghastly to look at. Ironic that I used to be compared to Finnick Odair in looks. The person weeping beside me sniffs loudly. Who is it? I can't tell.

Sleep claims me again, a thick suffocation heavy blanket.

It's a different smell when I come to next. There is somebody else beside me. They're not crying this time, and there's no more pressure on my hand. But they are talking to me.

"... run a test." Whoever it was has been talking to me for a while it seems, and I have just only come to awareness in the middle of it. "Cato, if you can hear me lift a finger. Any finger."

The words don't process very well in my head, but when they do I try to lift my fingers, but find that I cannot. This doesn't upset me too much. I'm tired of jumping when people say jump. What if I didn't want to lift my fingers? Not that I could anyway, but if I could would it be from my willing?

There's a scratching sound, someone writing something. Someone else enters the area. A deeper voice this time. "I only just got here. How's he doing?"

"Well, he's stable," the higher voice says. "But still in a coma. He was pretty bad when they brought him in. A few more minutes in the arena and he would have been a goner for sure. This is the first coma anyone has been in for years. Usually they're either dead or fixable by medicine."

My body twitches involuntarily at the word arena. I can feel the ghost of the tracker jacker stinging my cheek. Teeth scratching through my scalp. But I can still hear the conversation going around as I try to push down flashbacks of the game.

"What a clever girl," the deep voice is saying. "She found a way to cheat the system it seems. Two winners. Who's ever heard of that before?"

Two winners? That doesn't make sense. Who are they talking about? I try to listen harder, but now I am being chased by giant foxes across an endless field.

"Don't be so hard on him, sir," the other person who I figure is a woman says. "I know that he may not have brought honor to your district in the traditional way, but he still is here. He's still fighting."

Something moves closer to me, and something that feels like a pat on my shoulder. "I'm not hard on him. Anyone that's been what he was put through and is still fighting to be alive certainly deserves respect."

I struggle to hold on to my consciousness, but the foxes have caught me and they are pressing nightlock to my lips and bringing me back down into the black.

I feel different when I wake up the next time. I feel as if I am part of my body again, as if I could get up and walk around if I wanted to. But I am exhausted, despite all the sleeping I am doing so I just lie there, resting.

There is a shift next to me, and I realize someone is sitting next to me. The smell is pine and honey this time. I know immediately it is Katniss Everdeen sitting there. I recognize her distinct flavor from the arena, and for some reason, even without smell, I instinctively know that it is her.

She shifts closer to me, and there is a slight pressure where her fingers are on my arms.  
>She starts to talk. "I don't know if you can hear me," she says. Her voice is so soft on my ears. It soothes any of the sting that was still lingering in my body. "But if you can, thank you for letting me go in the arena. I don't know your reasons, I hope to hear them someday soon. And I will explain mine."<p>

She sits back and her fingers are gone from my arm. "It's been hard, the past few days. I feel selfish, because I look at what you're going through. Am I a horrible person? Winning isn't as easy as they make it seem. People look at me with envy, but I would give it up in a second. Bring back every tribute I killed. Bring back Peeta."

Her voice cracks. "I wish you would have gotten to know Peeta better. I don't know you, but I know you would have liked him. Everyone liked him. You couldn't help it." Her voice is thick with tears. I feel the urge to comfort her, but I also feel disgust. Crying is a weakness. How is she still alive, being so weak? Was I truly the one who thought that I couldn't kill someone like her?

"He died saving me you know. Pulled the mutts off of me and threw himself on them so that I could escape. He was yelling "Run, Katniss, run!" So I ran. I wasn't even strong enough to go back for him. He was a better person than me. I should have saved him instead."

I don't want to hear this. I don't want to hear about the boy who is apparently better than the girl who is better than me. Don't they know it wasn't my choice? I don't want to think about the arena, especially the final days. I don't want to think about the mutts killing someone, as they nearly killed me. I don't want to think about anything. Thinking is exhausting me.

So I let myself slip back into sleep, one more time. And this time, I embrace it gladly. It is a relief. And this time, I truly rest.

The next time I wake up, my eyes fly open and I sit straight up. My chest is rising and falling, heavily. I am breathing very quickly. My memories from the last few times of awareness are dim. I am confused. How am I alive? How am I sitting on a bed in what looks to be like a hospital? Where am I? How am I alive?

A monitor beeps, and a woman dressed in pale blue walks into the room. She has large eyes with diamonds implanted in the irises, and bright purple hair. I must be in the Capitol. She looks surprised to see me staring at her, and yells, "Hey, he's awake!"

I don't know how to respond, don't know if I can find my voice anyway. All the sudden, there is a crowd of people flooding the room. A few medical personnel, it looks like; a doctor, dressed in pale blue as well. I see Brutus, my mother, and a few other familiar faces from District 2. Katniss Everdeen stands there, her eyes large.

How can I have won and Katniss still be alive, standing in front of me. I have a very dim memory of an announcement at the end of the games, when I was convinced I was almost dead. What were they saying?

One more person comes in the room, and then they are striding through the group of people, straight to the foot of my bed. It is President Snow, and his eyes are steely and hard.

"Congratulations, Cato Verrucosus," he says. But he doesn't sound congratulatory. He sounds seriously pissed off, for lack of better way to put it. "You are the victor of the 74th Hunger Games."

_What?_

* * *

><p><strong>So there, shorter chapter, but it's 2 AM, so my usual creativity is going. Sorry if it's lacking details. It was kind of a fun chapter to right, even though it seems crazy, I'm sure. But anyway, Cato is awake now, so we'll find out more of what happened next chapter. Thanks for reading and all the reviews. They're very encouraging, and I read every single one (:<strong>

**Thank you!**


	4. Chapter 4

**I apologize in advance for language in this chapter, if that offends you. Somehow I just didn't picture Cato and Brutus as being perfect gentlemen when talking to each other.**

**And sorry for a little bit longer update time. I was on spring break last week, so it was a little easier to write quickly. Updates might be a few days apart now. But I'm working as hard as I can! Enjoy!**

* * *

><p>I tense immediately. I have the feeling that I am one of the people that his rage is towards, and I scour the room, evaluating if any of them are threats to me. Most of them are people I know so I relax just a little, but President Snow still has his eyes locked on me, so I can't rest completely.<p>

"You're looking much better, Mr. Verrucosus," the President says. His lips twitch. He is trying very hard to conceal his emotions. I can recognize it, as I have always concealed mine. Everybody in the room seems tense around me. They know there is a threat too. "Pity the games had to end in you being hurt at all..."

Thinly veiled sarcasm. What is with this guy? It's obvious he dislikes me, and if he dislikes me so much, then why did he allow them to crown me victor? He checks his fancy Capitol watch and then looks back at me. He looks bored. "I look forward to seeing you in the awards ceremony tomorrow, Mr. Verrucosus. I just wanted to stop by and offer my congratulations. I must really be going now. I do have a country to run."

A reminder. That he is on top. That we are all below him. If he wants us to play games, then we should be getting out the jacks and the cards and asking "Crazy Eights or Go Fish?" With one final glare around the room, he turns and leaves with a flourish.

Once he leaves, the doctors do a quick exam on me. They take my temperature, my pulse. Ask how I'm feeling. I tell them honestly that I am tired, and little dizzy. They adjust some tubes and needles that are hooked up to my arm. I grimace. How uncomfortable. I just want to rip them out and go screaming out of the room. I feel coiled tightly enough to kick any door down that's standing in the way of my escape.

Once the doctors and nurses leave, everybody sits in silence for a moment. I can tell that they are uncomfortable as I am. I stay still for a second, waiting for one of them to speak until I can't stand it anymore. "Does somebody want to tell me what the hell is going on?"

My voice is weak, but everybody looks surprised by my harsh words. But nobody moves to answer me. They all look at me like they are afraid of me, and afraid of my reaction. But they should be more afraid of what happens if nobody tells me what happened, and why I am being targeted by the leader of the country.

Anger courses through me. They seem to have forgotten, that just because I let Katniss go during the games, or have been temporarily injured doesn't mean I'm not still Cato. Massive, monstrous, furious. Always gets what he wants. "Tell me what the fuck is going on!"

"Cato!" my mother gasps at my language, like she's never heard anybody swear before. She is weeping again, but what is new. Her gaunt face looks even thinner since the last time I saw her.

I know that once upon a time, my mother was a beautiful, strong woman. But losing my father, and then Marcus took its toll on her. I know that watching me in the games probably about killed her. I would bet my life that if I had died she would have refused food until she eventually starved to death. But I still can't find it in myself to feel badly for her though. She was the one who let the trainers take me away at the age of five. And yet, she is weak. She made me weak. That's why I am here anyway.

Brutus clears his throat, and all eyes fly to him. As if he didn't stick out already. He is massive in this room compared to everybody else in it. There are a lot of emotions in Brutus's eyes as he looks at me, and many I know he'll never speak. Pity, sorrow, anger, disgust, but also pride. None of these emotions are new from him.

"Don't worry Cato," he begins. "I'll fill you in. I just wanted to make sure that you were up to hearing it first. You've been asleep for two days. I didn't know if you were suddenly just going to pass out on us again."

"Brutus," my mother tries to cut in. "Now is not the time. Now is time for him to rest, and get better and-"

"For the love of God, Claudia, he is not a child!" Brutus wheels around on her, a vein bulging in the side of his neck. I know that he never was very fond of my mother. And my bets are he has had to spend enough time with her the past few days that he is almost to his break point. "He's been through enough in the last few days to prove that he's strong enough to handle it! He almost got eaten by a pack of wild dogs made from other tribute's bodies for heaven's sake!"

I wince. Brutus never was the one for subtly or soft words. Although he was a volunteer tribute, and nothing pleases him better than to be a mentor in the games so he can remain a part of them, I know that they have given him a hard edge. I feel a different connection to him now that I'm out of the games that I didn't feel before. It's hard to have won the games in District 2, because that's all you've trained for your entire life. He immerses himself in the blood, the gore, the action, because it is the only thing that he knows how to do.

My mother looks like she's been smacked, but for once, she isn't sobbing. She just looks stunned. But she sits back down, her mouth half open. Brutus looks a little bit apologetic, but he says nothing to her. He instead turns to me.

"First of all, you moron," he growls. "You pretty much jumped off that cornucopia. What were you thinking? Idiot. You almost died." I know he is letting me off easy. We are both very aware that I let the girl on fire go, and he is not pleased at me for it. I'm sure I'll hear about it later. But somehow I can't find myself to care. What's he going to do? Make me run laps in the training center?

"But luckily for you, modern medicine is amazing. You were a chewed up piece of dead meat when you got here, and now you're not. You can stride around looking like fucking Narcissus again."

I sit up a little straighter. I hadn't even thought about whether I retained lasting disfigurement. I'm sure that my face was brutal looking at first. I look down at my hands. They are smooth with no scaring, not even a little bit. I notice that the skin on my hands is paler than the skin on my forearms, which is tanned. I realize that the line where the skin goes from tan to whitish is about the area that my body armor reached down to on my arms. It appears that the skin on my hands has been entirely replaced. There probably wasn't much original skin there to salvage. I'm sure the skin on my neck and face look similar.

I grimace. Gives me one hell of a nasty tan line.

"Maybe I should be the one to tell him what happened in the games." Katniss Everdeen pipes up. I had almost forgotten she was there. She has a strange look on her face. Is it shame? But she moves towards the side of the bed. I don't know whether to move closer to her, or jump away from her. I feel drawn to her, but at the same time, my instincts from back in the arena kick in. She is the one to beat. She is the one in the way of my freedom! I need to get her out of the way. Maybe third time is the charm...

"Cato?" she asks, and I am snapped out of it. I notice, once again, how sweet her voice is when it says my name. I don't like it. It makes the predator part of me angry.

"Go on." I say, and nothing more. I can't make her think she has any hold over me. I need to distance myself from her every chance I get. Survival of the fittest.

She sighs, running her fingers through her braided hair, pushing her bangs out of her face. Is she disappointed that I'm being closed off? Maybe she was hoping that I would be sensitive outside of the arena like I was when I was crying over Clove or letting her go. Well, tough luck, fire girl. Takes more than a couple days to change behavior developed over eighteen years. "You fell off the cornucopia, do you remember that?"

I want to tell her that I can remember almost every detail of the dogs pulling the flesh from my bones and leaving me nothing more than a hunk of raw meat on the ground, begging for death. The sadistic part of me wants to say this. I get the feeling that it will hurt her, and my mother, and Brutus. But the wiser part of me keeps my mouth closed. Better than to act like an immature prat. Might as well hear the Seam girl out.

So I settle for a curt nod, not breaking eye contact with her the entire time. "Yes, I fell and the dogs attacked me. And then the next thing I remember is waking up here."

Lie. I remember begging her to kill me. I remember her face as she looked down on me. Pity, and saddness. I don't need to be pitied anymore.

She nods, almost absently to herself and then continutes. "You were nearly dead. I knew that you had only a little bit of time left... So I may have... forced the Gamemakers to bend the rules just a little bit. So that we could both get out of there..."

Her voice trails off. My brow furrows. There's no such thing that's ever been done before. How did she accomplish that? A quick glance around the room confirms that this is true. I don't say anything, just let her continue.

She isn't really talking to me anymore. She is looking through me and her knees come to her chest as she hugs them. "I was tired of being a part of their games. I was tired of everybody dying. I wanted to one up the Capitol. To show them that I was something more than just a pawn in their game. So when the mutts left, I came up with a plan. The Capitol has to have their winner. It makes the districts all remember that even though the Capitol is all powerful, they also are merciful." Her face screws up in disgust. I can tell she doesn't think that they are merciful at all.

I wonder if she is remember the Hebird. Probably. I know that I am remembering Clove as she talks.

She continutes. "So, when you looked at me and said 'please', I knew I had to do something. So I looked to where I had found a camera inside the cornucopia, and I said "Change the rules. Allow two winners from two different districts."

I snort. No wonder the President had been so enraged. The girl had some gall, talking to the Gamemakers as if she could control them. But I suppose she could. I am living proof of that.

"I knew that had gotten their attention, but I also knew that it wasn't likely that they change the rules. So, I had some nightlock in my pocket. Peeta..." her voice breaks on his name. She takes a second to compose herself, and then tries again. "Peeta had accidentally picked it up. Foxface ate some, which killed her. I knew it was deadly, and so I told the camera again, "Save him, and I, or I kill us both." I don't know if they knew what I was planning or not."

My mouth drops open. I think I can see where this is going. I can faintly remember the smell of nightlock and something being pressed against my lips before I blacked out again in the arena.

"I put a couple berries in both hands, and put it against your mouth. And I was about to take some myself, when they decided to change the rules. They yelled at me to stop over the microphone, and then announced that we had both won. Then the helicopter came and they rushed you away. I half expected you not to make it. But here you are, you did."

I was gaping at her. It was that simple to trick the game? Why in seventy four years had nobody ever thought of it before. The answer comes to me immedietly. Because everybody wanted to win for their own glory. Selfish winners in the past. They never thought of anyone else. I know that I most certainly wouldn't have in the opposite position. I would have let her die. District rivalry takes a hold of the best of them. You are brought up thinking that the kids in the other districts are heathens. I know after what happened with Marcus, I certainly thought so.

I block all that out and I ask the question that I'm sure the whole room is wondering, by the look on their faces.

"But how did you know it would work?"

The ashamed look comes back on her face, and her cheeks flame a pretty red. Her voice is barely a whisper. "I didn't know... I could have killed us both. But I had to do something. You would have died if I hadn't acted quick. So I did the only thing that I could think of..."

I try to wrap my head around the story. It sounds way to simple to be true. My headache is back full force now, and I am more exhausted than ever. I lean back in my bed, suddenly just wanting to be alone. To be done with the games, and all the tricks, and all the turns.

"Why did you do it? You could have let me die. You could have had all the fame and glory for yourself."

She looks at me, startled. She laughs nervously, as if the answer was obvious all along. "You saved me. So I was returning the favor. Although I'm afraid I may have done more harm than good..."

I don't like that. I don't like that she felt the need to save me. I don't like that she felt indebted to me, because now I feel indebted to her. Like I owe her something. And I do. I owe her my life. But I don't like that. I don't want to owe anything to anyone, especially this strange girl who attracts me, yet makes me want to punch something hard. I don't want to feel like she is better than me, even though she obviously is.

I turn away from Katniss, managing to keep my face plain so she can't see what is in my head. Although somehow, I'm guessing she already knows. Maybe she felt the same way towards me, who was her enemy in the arena, yet spared her. Maybe she tossed and turned over how she could kill me, when I couldn't kill her myself.

And as for doing more harm than good, maybe she's right. Apparently the head of Panem now has both of us on his list. And what does that mean for the two of us? Only heaven knows.

I don't want to think about any of that right now. All I want to do is sleep off this nightmare. Even my garish coma dreams are better than this. I want to go to bed and never wake up, or wake up before the Hunger Games even started. I don't want to be where I am right now though, that's for sure.

"Can I be alone, please? I am exhausted and I want to sleep."

The room immediately becomes a bustle as the nurse that was posted outside the room is called in, and my visitors fret over me. Katniss catches me eye, and my heart jumps. She looks hurt, like she was hoping for something more. But what? I have no idea. I'll try to sort everything out when I wake up. Right now, my battered mind just needs to rest to process all the information. To know how to live with being one of the first dual victors to ever win the Hunger Games. Of how to deal with the wrath of a President. And of how to deal with Katniss Everdeen, who provokes such a strange response out of me.

The nurse at my side asks me if I would like some sleeping medicine, and I agree automatically. The quicker I'm out the better. She hangs a bag off of my IV, and I can feel myself getting woozy almost at once

The last thing I see before I close my eyes is my mother, grab Katniss's arm and pull her to the side. I am worried for the Fire girl for a second. My mother hates Seam people. But my worry is for vain, because my mother pulls Katniss into a giant hug, and whispers quietly with tears in her voice, but loud enough so that I can hear her, "Thank you."

Darnkess.

* * *

><p><strong>So I know all of you are probably just hoping that Cato would be all grateful at once and jump into Katniss's arms and they would fly into the sunset immediately... But that just isn't realistic at all! (: So it's going to take Cato a little time to sort through being well... a tribute from District 2. Be patient though. Good things come to those who wait! <strong>

**Anyway, thank you all so much for your reviews and interest in this story again. It really makes me happy to know that everyone is enjoying the story so much so far (:**

**Next chapter! You will find out what happened to Cato's brother. Maybe father, I haven't decided. Then Cato and Katniss will spend a little quality alone time together, and Haymitch will be included later in the chapter too! Thanks for reading!**

**-H**


	5. Chapter 5

**I am so glad you all are enjoying my story! I am loving the reviews I've been giving. Some of you have really interesting thoughts, or encouragement. And I really appreciate every single one of them. So thank you! And enjoy the next chapter! Sorry if it seems a little rushed, I wanted to get everything in before the end of the weekend, and it's kind of late tonight! But I hope you like it anyway. Happy Easter weekend everyone! **

* * *

><p><em>Ten years ago, I watched my brother volunteer to be a part of the 64th annual Hunger Games. He was a soft spoken individual who considered every word he said. He held my mother and I closer to him than anything in the world. He wanted to make us proud. And he was absolutely brutal with maces and spears. So he volunteered for the Hunger Games so that he could bring us home a victory. My father had left us in shame, after running away with a woman that lived in a nearby house. They had trained to be Peacekeepers together, and then, when I was 7 years old, broke their own laws and fled in the middle of the night. They were caught and killed before the sun rose the next morning.<em>

_It didn't seem to phase my mother. She always claimed that she and my father had not married for love. They had married because it was expected. Arranged since birth. Supposed to produce strong children for the arena. And they had done that, so their marriage was void anyway. But I knew deep inside it hurt her more than she let on. More than once, I passed her room at night and heard the soft, muffled sounds of her crying. The first times I had ever heard it. But she didn't let it show. She was so proud of Marcus when he was chosen. She stood a little straighter, bragged about him in public. She was always rallying up his supporters to make sure that he got enough sponsors to get the parachutes that he needed._

_Marcus dominated early in the game, taking out 7 contestants himself within the first two days. My district hadn't had that much success in a few years, so we constantly had the monitors on. During school, during training. I swelled with pride everytime somebody mentioned him. Yes. That was my brother. He received the most parachutes out of any tribute, being strong and handsome and even slightly likeable, as he never capitalized on the brute side of him. _

_But no parachute can guarantee a tribute's victory. And unfortunately, the odds were not in Marcus's favor. An overlooked team, nearly starved to death, crept into the Career Camp late at night. The two tributes from District 12, both from the Seam, and a boy from District 6 that everyone remembers by the name of Titus._

_The Seam boy and girl were talented with fires and set my brother's tent on fire in the middle of the night. Two of the Careers died in the fire, but Marcus managed to crawl out, although he was obviously suffering from smoke inhalation. It was still quite a fight between my brother and the other team, but in the end, they out numbered him. When Marcus finally fell, the other crazed tributes drew out his death as long as possible, making random wounds on his body so that he eventually bled to death._

_And then, the entire nation got to watch in horror as the boy from District 6, Titus, went even further and decided to feast upon the remains of the Careers in their camp. There was no body sent home to us after the games, just a skeleton._

_After the games, my mother was hospitalized for a long time for mental instability. She raved constantly about the mongrels from the Seam, and anybody who's name started with a 'T' would send her into a fit of terror. She constantly screamed Marcus's name in her sleep. But Marcus's death only solidified my longing to go into the arena. To show the Districts that my family was not weak. And to get back at the members of District 6 and 12 for robbing me of my brother, my mentor, and my role model._

* * *

><p>For the first time in days, I wake up naturally, instead of from pain or from shock. I open my eyes slowly and gaze at the ceiling. It's been a long time since I've dreamed about what happened to my brother. It used to happen every night right after the game, and then steadily through the following years. But after I turned 16, they died out. Until now.<p>

I wouldn't consider the dream really a nightmare. What happened to my brother was gruesome, horrific, and terrifying. But I tended to use it more as inspiration than as a reason to be afraid. The dreams only reminded me my purpose for working as hard as I did, and every time, refreshed my hate for people in the other Districts.

Only I have never woken up from the dream with a girl from another district, especially one from the Seam, who I let free sitting by my bedside, staring at me as if she is trying to figure me out.

I am surprised she is here, but I don't let it show. I can't let her get into my head more than she already is. So I just turn to her like it is the most natural thing in the world. She is looking at me, quizzically.

I smirk. "Like what you see, Fire Girl?" I am immediately glad that I teased her, because her cheeks flare red. I made her feel uncomfortable, and got to see the pretty shade she turns when she gets embarrassed all in one sentence. Two points to me.

She shakes her head to clear up her blush and probably confirm my question. Although I guarantee she's lying. Every girl likes what they see when they see me. I have had many come after me. But I have had no time for girls in the past. Clove was the only girl I ever allowed to get close to me, and even then, it was distanced. I had no time to get to know anybody else. The most important thing to me was winning the Hunger Games. Love and lust and friendship were just a waste of time. Something that could always wait until later.

Plus if there was anything that losing my father and my brother taught me, it was that love is fickle. Just because you love someone with all of your heart doesn't mean that you get to keep them. As my mother loved my father, and as I loved my brother.

"I'm trying to figure you out," Katniss states. Obviously. It was written all over her face. I knew it within minutes of waking up that she wanted to know something about me. I get the feeling that now that she's out of the games, she doesn't put much merit into hiding things. As much as I try to lock down my emotions, I wonder if Katniss is incapable of hiding her emotions at all. People are going to eat her up.

"What are you trying to figure out?" I ask. I roll on my side, facing her. I notice that I'm not hurting at all anymore. I wonder if they have me doped up on morphling pretty good or if I'm already healed from my near death experience.

Katniss studies me for a second more, and I begin to feel a little uneasy under her scrutinizing gaze. I fidget a little bit on the bed before sighing impatiently, as if I have better things to do than put up with her. Which I don't, honestly. I have a feeling I'm not going to be leaving the hospital in the next few minutes.

"I told you why I did it," She's choosing her words carefully. I can tell from the tone in her voice. "But why did you do it?"

I feel a chill run down my spine. She has asked me the one question I cannot answer. Why did I spare her? Once was understandable. My friend had just died, I was going crazy. But two times? Unheard of. She thinks I had another motive. But the question that she asked me, I cannot even answer myself. Why did I want her to live so much? What made her so special compared to everyone else?

I'm not sure what the answer is, and I'm not sure what to tell her. So I just tell her the truth.

"I don't know." My voice comes out as a whisper, and I feel a little bit of shame, but I don't know what for. For not having a real reason? Do I not want to disappoint her? Why are all of these questions so hard to answer? I am starting to get frustrated with myself.

I can tell that's not the answer that she wanted, and I did indeed disappoint her. She remains silent for a minute, her lips twitching to one side. I decide to study her like she just studied me. Her brown hair is pulled back into her normal braid, and her lips are pressed together in concentration. She has gray eyes, like most girls from the Seam, and they have a questioning, yet contemplative look within them. I can tell she is trying to tell if there's more to the story than I am telling her. I decide I like the spattering of freckles across her face. Her skin is tan and she has the expression in her face of someone who has lived more than just a simple 16 years.

I feel my heart soften just a bit, feeling bad for the girl who obviously had to grow up too fast. But then I steel it again. Why should I feel sorry for her? I'm in the same position as her! What hold does this girl have over me?

Her next question is sudden and takes me by surprise. "Did you love Clove?"

The question hangs in the air as I consider it. I think for a minute, and then decide, since I was being truthful before, I might as well be truthful now. "Yes. I did. She was my best friend. But I wasn't in love with her." I sit for a few seconds in silence, thinking not of Katniss's freckles for a moment, but for the more prominent ones that always covered Clove's face. There's a pang in my heart. It's different from the physical pain that I've felt the last few days. It's more of the ache I felt when I saw Marcus pass away on the screen or when I heard my mother cry. It's the pang that comes with having lost someone, when you know things will never be the same. It's how the heart feels with grief weighing upon it.

For some reason, my lips start to move again and I find myself actually talking to the Seam girl, who sits patiently next to me, listening. "Clove and I grew up together. We both knew we'd be in the Hunger Games someday. My mother and Clove's father decided that we would probably get married, and honestly we probably would have. I loved her because she was the only one that I ever trusted to have my back. Even in the arena, I knew that it was way more likely that I ended up terminating her instead of the other way around. She couldn't have laid a hand on me."

I never admitted that to myself, but I realize now how true it was. I am suddenly filled with regret. It should have been me in her place. She was a better friend, more trustworthy than I who valued the title over her life. I am caught up in the wave of memories that I experienced after Clove's death. I am no longer in the hospital, or in the Hunger Games. It was the simpler time when the games were about honor and not tinged with remorse. Or whatever it is that is happening right now between the Capitol and Katniss and I.

I fall into silence, and I can feel Katniss wanting to ask me more questions so I deflect her inquiry with a question of my own. "Did you love the Loverboy? Peeta, wasn't that his name?"

I can feel her stiffen almost instantly next to me. I look up to see her eyes filled with pain, and her face is crumpled. Oh God, I hope that she doesn't cry. I've had enough of women crying in my life to hold me over for all of eternity, and I still don't know how to handle them.

"No, I didn't love him," she whispers, her eyes elsewhere, and I know that she is experiencing the same type of flashbacks that I did just moments previous.

I scoff, but am not surprised. That's the kind of low tactics that tributes from the outer districts would employ. I'm not saying it isn't smart, it's just the easy way out. "So it was just an act for the camera's, huh? Clever."

I seem to have hit a soft spot though, because she does start to cry. She seems pretty torn up about somebody that she hadn't loved.

"I wish I had," she continues. But she's not talking to me anymore. "So many times since the games ended... He was a wonderful guy. I wish I would have gotten to know him before the Games. I wish that I had known him better, even if that would have made it harder in the end. Because I feel like now, he wasted a lot of his time on me... Most of his life... And I barely even know his name. He saved my life twice..."

She sniffs, and the tears are over that quickly. She seems to realize she is actually in a room with me. She looks up and catches my eye. "Kind of like you, actually."

I feel embarrassed, which is an unusual feeling for me. So I decide to turn it into anger instead. An easy feeling for me to harness. "No, I didn't save your life," I hiss at her. The heart to heart is over. It's time to remember where we really stand in the big scheme of things. "I decided not to kill you. Because that's what I did. Killed people. More than one of them."

That hangs for the air for a second. I know that she had a few kills under her belt in the arena too, although I don't know exactly how many. But I'm not about to ask. There's no need for me to be privy to any other details about her life.

The awkward silence is only broken when there is a loud knock on my door, and then in bursts a paunchy man with curly dark hair. My head snaps up immediately, and I tense on my bed. Who is this man and why is he barging in my room? He's obviously not a doctor, and from the way he's stumbling, I wonder if he's had a few too many drinks.

"Who are you?" I demand, tensing, ready to spring at him. Is he a man from the Capitol? Trying to take Katniss and I out before we can say too much, or be any more rebellious and cause more trouble than we already have? I'm faced with a dilemma. Should I save her or try to get myself away. As I am pondering this question, which I am finding surprisingly difficult to answer, I notice the man has the trademark gray Seam eyes. I realize before he says it that this must be Haymitch Abernathy, Katniss and Peeta's mentor.

"The name's Haymitch," he says, his words very nearly slurring together. "And you the infamous, Cato Verracousus. Monster of the arena. Pleasure to meet you. Only not really."

I instantly dislike this man, but he pays no heed and plops himself on the foot of my hospital bed. I notice that Katniss looks very ashamed of her mentor. She mouths a "sorry" at me, but I don't respond.

"Quite an ordeal you put yourself through the last couple days!" Haymitch exclaims, moving closer to me. I wonder if the doctors would be upset if I killed this man on their shiny disinfected hospital floors. "Although that's not anything to the trouble you're going to be in! Congratulations for winning the Hunger Games!"

I regard him suspiciously, not sure what he's trying to say. He seems like a big ball of crazy to me. But Katniss obviously is used to him, because she doesn't look appalled by his behaviour, just slightly embarrassed that I'm on the receiving end of it. "Haymitch, you're bothering him. What are you getting at?"

"You!" Haymitch says, pointing at her, and letting out a kind of slurred laugh. "You got yourself and little Big Britches here into a shit load of trouble. That little stunt you pulled with the berries didn't really please the leader of our country very much, you know."

Katniss's face turns white, and I wonder if she is actually surprised. "It was written all over his face," I say, shrugging. "When he came in here he was obviously pissed off. Damn near threatened me without actually saying it."

Haymitch pats my knee, in what he probably hopes is a sympathetic move. Then he drops the bomb that takes us both by surprise. "Bunch of trouble Katniss got you both into. Although you didn't really help with letting her go twice. Unfortunately, you may have upset Snow with that too. That's not what you're supposed to do. That's suspicious. Like you predetermined an alliance beforehand with the girl who was going to defy the Capitol. I guess the whole thing is getting blown out of proportion. The Districts are starting to become restless. Some are talking about revolution. Because if yout two did it, obviously they could tool."

My blood turns chilly. There's no way people can actually think that. That's dangerous talk right there. Definance is one thing, but conspiracy is another. A tingle climbs up to my spine. I just survived one death sentence. Am I about to be served another? I curse myself for the thousandth time for being a coward. One girl. I just needed to kill one girl and none of this would have happened.

Said girl is staring at Haymitch with her mouth hanging wide open. Her eyes are filled with fear and worry. I wonder if she is worried for herself. Probably is actually worried for me too. She seems to be that type of girl. She shouldn't waste her thoughts on a coward like me.

"But... What does that mean?" She definitely is worried. No surprise, with her emotions still clearly spelled out. "There was no alliance!"

"Well I know that," Haymitch says, rolling his eyes. "You two are too stupid to have a plot to overthrow the Capitol together. Unfortunately the rest of Panem doesn't know that. All they know is that you saved Cato's life. And they don't know why you let him free. Speaking of which, why did you?"

My mouth is dry. I still can't pinpoint the reason why. "I don't know."

Haymitch rolls his eyes again and lets out a snort of disgust. "Well that's very helpful in telling the President who may just be after your head after the stunts the two of you pulled."

Katniss and I exchange our first eye contact since the beginnning of this conversation. I can tell that she feels as helpless as I do. What can we do when neither of us can really fully explain what went on in the arena to ourselves, let alone a whole country? I suddenly feel the urge to comfort her, but I know that is crazy, so I just break the eye contact and look down, my face turning white. What if all my failure to kill her in the arena was worth nothing and she is just going to die at the hands of the Capitol anyway? The thought feels me with pure dread. The dread makes me angry.

Haymitch watches our silent exchange and looks quizzically at us, before a smile forms on his face. It is not a nice happy smile, but the smile that I would guess a shark would get before bearing down on its prey. "I have an idea." he says, looking between the two of us, before settling his eyes on me, sizing me up. "And I think it might work in giving Panem a reason for your defiance, and it would please Snow, I would think,

I shrink back under his gaze, feeling unclean just when he looks at me. Like something slimy is slowly climbing up my body. I feel the urge to wipe myself off, but resist, curious to Haymitch's plan. What does he think he can do to convince all of Panem that it wasn't a purposefully defiant plan? Because I think if I was an unhappy citizen, I could take it as such too.

Haymitch's smile gets bigger. I know he can tell that we are waiting for him to tell us his plan. He turns to me, and I swear to myself if I can never be around him alone because I would strangle him.

"I hope you can act, Mr. Muscles," He says to me, and his voice sounds a little clearer, if not a lot creepier. "Because you are about to play the part of your life."

* * *

><p><strong>Hope you liked it! By the way, I know it seems like Haymitch is a lot creepier in this chapter than the book, or that I wrote it like I think that. But I don't, I just didn't feel like Haymitch and the persona of Cato I created would get along very well. So let's just say Haymitch rubs him the wrong way. Anyway, thanks for reading! I really appreciate it bunches (:<strong>


	6. Chapter 6

**Well here is Chapter 6! I'm not quite happy with this chapter.. I don't know what it is about it. Maybe that not much seems to get accomplished to me. But yet, a lot does. But it definitely needs to be in the story. So if you don't like it, just hold out, because it will smooth out a little bit. We just have to get through the rough part where Cato thinks he's still an emotionless beast. Alright? (;**

* * *

><p>I am discharged from the hospital just in time for the award ceremony that night. The doctor told me to take it easy and not to exercize for a while, but I won't pay any attention to him. I feel the need for a long stretch, my joints were stiff, but besides that, I feel like my usual self.<p>

I go into the preparations in a foul mood. My head is spinning from the earlier conversation with the obnoxious Haymitch, and I feel uncharacteristically anxious for the event about to come. I know there is a lot of weight resting on my shoulders. How I "perform" tonight could very well set the tone for the rest of the my future. And I don't like that one bit.

My prep team learned before the games to give me a wide berth, as I do not like to be poked and prodded at. They didn't have to do much before the games to make me look television ready, as I was already photogenic enough without a bunch of makeup and showy effects. But I had still not liked to be washed until my skin glowed, and that was their job. So obviously, we clashed.

Unfortunately since a stay at the hospital, I need a little bit more work than I ever have before. I have heavy bags under my eyes that need to be lifted and covered, my lips are chapped and need some intense cream slathered on them that makes them smooth immedietly. My hands become perfectly manicured although the cut is just natural enough, and not too feminine looking. My hair is chopped to a stylish length that sticks out artistically, instead of the shaggy mop it has become.

But the biggest problem is my discolored skin. A victor can't go on television with skin looking like a patchwork quilt. I am immedietly stripped down and covered in lotion that causes a perfect tan glow to even out my entire skin. It makes my hands and face tingle unpleasantly. I try to sit through it and show a little temperment, but when one of the airheaded helpers accidently smears some of the tanning goup into my eye, I decide that is enough.

It stings. A lot. So I swear. A lot. By the end of my tirade, my prep team is standing in the corner, cowering. None of them dare even come near me. I almost feel bad. Almost. I guess it is time to go see the stylist.

I am given an outfit that looks extremely similar to the one I wore on the chariots into the ceremonies before the games. It is a Roman warrior type costume, cape and sandals and all, but instead of gold with yellow accents, this time it is black with a deep red detailing. My stylist, Xari, rubs a cream into my hair that gives it the same reddish tint of my outfit on the tips, and then paints a tribal design that reaches from the side of the newly tanned skin on my face to the tip of my right arm.

Topped with just a touch of black kohl smeared underneath my eyes, I look every bit... no, more fearsome than I did when I went into the games. One look at me, and nobody would ever have thought that I have been chewed to bits by a pack of hounds. Hopefully, they will forget that I had been an unwilling participant in taking the berries at the same time.

It is almost time to go. I don't get to see Katniss Everdeen before the ceremony. I am supposed to walk out on stage, supposedly the first time I've seen her since she saved my life. A swarm of butterflies spring into my stomach. Stage fright, I tell myself. I still have a few minutes before air time, and I find my thoughts turning back to the conversation the Fire Girl and I had with Haymitch this morning.

_"I hope you're a good actor, Mr. Muscles, because you are about to play the role of your life."_

_I had sneered at him. I had never had the use for acting. My angle for the games had been intimidation, and that was a natural thing. Not forced at all. But I waited to hear what he had to say. Now that the Seam girl had gotten us singlehandedly into trouble, it would be up to me to get us out. Of course._

_"You two had an alliance before you went into the games." Haymitch told us. We had no choice, this was our new realitly. His eyes shone with glee. What an excitement, better entertainment for the people. It was all just part of the games, continued after. The games he had never been able to escape, and now we wouldn't either._

_"Your high scores from the judges drew you together. Cato was curious, and Katniss, you were looking to stay alive for your sister. The two of you decided to make a pact. You wouldn't have an outright alliance, because that would make you even larger targets for the others in the arena. You would be hunted instead of the hunters. But unbeknownst to everybody, you would be working to take out all the other tributes, for yourselves and for the other one."_

_So far, it had sounded sounded like something I would realitstically do. Create a secret team to surprise the tributes during the game. A twist. I kept listening, noticing that Katniss was as well._

_"But the night before the games, you two secretly met, and both pumped on nerves and adreneline, promised that you wouldn't be the ones to kill each other, due to your alliance. So when Cato let you go in the arena, Katniss, it was really just because he had promised not to kill you. And that's the reason why neither of you could kill each other at the end. You valued your oath so much that you couldn't break it. Cato, did you really jump off the cornucopia, or were you trying to sacrifice yourself to save her? And that's why Katniss demanded you be saved after the games. Because she could not kill you herself."_

_We both just looked at him, our mouths hanging open. Did I really seem like the type that would promise not to kill anybody? No. I wasn't the type that would make a promise with a Seam girl that I just met, especially if it would jeaprodize my chances of winning the game. It seemed like a very long shot to me. "Isn't it a little suspicious that we mentioned no pact while in the arena?" I asked, noticing the edge of sarcasm in my voice. "That's never happened before. And it's obvious I slipped, not jumped off the cornucopia. So there's a flaw."_

_Haymitch laid back on my bed, waving his hand dismissively, obviously not concerned. "The audience will trick themselves into believing whatever they want to, and you can be convincing enough for them to want to believe you." His snarky smile came back. It reminded me of a shark. "And the fact that it's never been done before is what's so brilliant. They'll eat it right up."_

_Katniss finally piped up, after being silent and just absorbing the whole time. "It just seems like a really long shot, especially to save our lives. Are you sure it will work?"_

_Haymitch turned towards her, and I could tell he was annoyed with her for doubting him. As her mentor, she should go along blindly and do whatever he said. "No, I'm not sure. Unfortunately, that's the best idea that I had. Too bad for the two of you, our 'star-crossed lover' card was played with Peeta, so we can't go that angle."_

_Katniss winced at the sound of Peeta's name and her face immedietly flushed red. She got up and was out of the room in a second, her jacket rustling behind her. Haymitch lounged lazily on my bed for another minute or two, then decided to stand up. He turned towards me. _

_"You think about it, Muscles. Face it. The two of you are going to have to work together to get out of this mess. But how you handle it is all up to you."_

So now I stand outside of the entrance to the stage where the ceremony will be held. My palms are starting to itch, and I notice a trickle of sweat starting to form on my temple. I am not used to being anxious. It is another new feeling that I get to add to the basket of others that I have felt in the past few days and am not used to. I am not used to feeling out of control. Especially of my own life. And I am definitely not used to having to depend on another person I don't know to pull it off with me.

I am so caught up in exploring the new feeling that I barely even notice the footsteps coming towards me. But I do, and I curse at myself for being so careless. I am nearly losing my senses, which are some of the only parts of myself that I feel like I could rely on anymore. Everything else seems foreign and strange.

I turn to see Haymitch walking towards me, and I almost turn and walk away before he can get to me. But he speeds up when he sees me tense and cuts off my escape route. He closes the gap quickly, stepping close to me. I can see his eyes peering around for prying ears before he leans in closer.

"You and I both know that it's going to take more than some story about an alliance to fool Snow," he whispers, his foul liquored breath enveloping my face. I feel my nostrils flare in disgust. "I think your story is going to need a little more... back."

I step away from him, anything to get away from this uncomfortable, smelly, little man. My eyes narrow at him. I could have told him that Snow wasn't going to buy it from the start. But I thought it was Panem we were trying to fool, not the President himself. "What do you mean by more back? What more could we possibly add that wouldn't sound completely derranged?"

Haymitch looks at me for a second through his dark gray Seam eyes. I can tell he is sizing me up in his mind. Evaluating me. Trying to decide exactly how much he can say to me before I snap his neck from annoyance, the answer being, not very much. Or at least that's what I imagine he was thinking.

"You know," Haymitch says, and much to my chagrin, he scoots closer to me again. Hasn't he ever heard of a shower? He slings his arm around my shoulder. "When I said that the star crossed lover angle had died with Peeta... I may have been wrong. And it may be just what you need to convince Snow that there was some reason behind the madness of what went on in the arena."

A moment goes by where I just stare at him incredulously. The nerve of him! How dare he even suggest a killer like me show love towards somebody! Especially somebody that, up until a few days ago, I wanted to decapitate for show. So I then decide to just sneer at him, a look I am becoming accostumed to using around him.

"You want me," I nearly laugh at him. Maybe he is just joking. "To pretend I'm in love with a girl who I almost choked with my bare hands. Twice. That was all out of love, I suppose? I'm sure that will convince somebody that we weren't trying to rebel. I just loved her so much I wanted to murder her!" I roar with laughter. The whole thing is just so ridiculous, I can't help it.

His face is expressionless as he lets me laugh, but he cocks one eyebrow at me. "Unnatural forces move us all, Muscles. Look at it this way. You couldn't get Katniss out of your head in the arena, so when you were given the chance to kill her, you were so preturbed by the fact that a monsterous freak like you had actually had a goddman feeling for once in your life that you didn't know how to kill her anymore."

That strikes a little too close to home. A chord is reverberating within me, humming quietly, but I know it will get louder.

"And that made you requestion everything you've ever known. You might not love her yet, but you're interested by what she makes you feel. Curious, yet repulsed. And she saved your life because you saved hers, and because of your secret alliance of course, which made you even more confused. Because you don't know how to be in debt to somebody. You've never been in that place before."

I growl in anger. I do not want this annoying man to be the one to throw back in my face exactly what I am feeling at the moment. He has no right to know better what is going on in my head than I do. He has no right.

But he continues on, relentless. "A little closer to home than you want to let on, big shot? Well guess what, brainless! It's not only you that's in trouble right now! Both of you are going to have to do all you can from saving your sorry asses to something that's much worse than anything that could happen in the arena. And guess what, muscles? You got her into this mess by saving her life, just as much as she got you into this with the berry trick. So you owe her just as much as she owes you."

His voice has raised during the spiel until he is very nearly yelling. Anyone passing nearby will have easily heard him, I am sure. Luckily there is no one to hear. I don't really see how all of his tirade was relating together, but it pains me to admit some of his rambling was a little more spot on than I am comfortable with.

"So you want me to pretend I'm in love with her, or pretend whatever feelings I'm feeling are chocked up to love?" I ask, still disbelieving. "But what happens when the rest of Panem realizes it isn't real? That'll be easy to see through. I'd have to pretend it _was_ some sort of star crossed lover thing. They'd be expecting a big wedding and babies and stuff like that before too long."

Haymitch looks me up and down once more, inspecting me from head to toe with one sweep of his eyes. "Well, hotshot, turns out it may not be a far cry from the truth. But who am I to say? I can only give you the idea."

He grins at me once more, as if forgetting that three seconds ago he was just shouting at me about being brainless. He pats my back as he turns to walk away, like we are long time friends. "The rest is up to you."

Before I really have time to process fully what he was saying, a bell chimes. It's time to go. No time to think. Just time to act. Time to put on a great show.

* * *

><p>Katniss is dressed in a costume simiar to mine, except it is mostly red with black accents. She has the same tribal tattoo going down her side and her eyes are heavily lined in black liner that makes the gray stand out in the most striking way. She smiles at me, a little hesitantly, and it reminds of what Haymitch said about us having to work together to get out of this. I don't know how to work in a team. It's unnatural to me.<p>

As President Snow awards us with our crowns, I see the hatred that he has for the two of us seeded deeply in his eyes. But especially when he looks over at the Fire Girl. It is obvious that he is blaming any kind of rebellious act almost solely on her, and I'm just the unlucky fellow who happened to be accomplice at the time.

The danger feels much more real now that he is looking at us, almost threatening us with his eyes. _Give me a good show. _He seems to be challenging us. _Convince me that it was just a foolish act of children._

Haymitch's words come back to me at that time. "_I can only give you the idea, the rest is up to you."_

And now I know what I have to do. I become detatched from my body as it is happening, just letting my self-preservation instincts take over and after the crown is placed firmly on my head, to the soundtrack of the crowd's applause in the background, I cross over to the dark haired girl that is standing next to me.

I look her in the eyes, hoping she understands what I am trying to do, and grab her face between my hands. My lips crash down on hers before she has time to protest, before either of us fully understand what is going on.

And then, we burst into flame.

* * *

><p><strong>Thanks to all of you that are following the story, and for the continual support and encouragement I have been recieving through reviews. It really does make me more eager to write when I know people are enjoying it, so thank you once again (:<strong>

**I'll try to have the next update sometime before the weekend so keep a lookout for it! Thanks for reading, once again!**

**-H**


	7. Chapter 7

**I've tried to update quickly, and am hoping to have another chapter to you by the end of the weekend, depending. I work Fri-Sun this weekend, so don't be discouraged if it's a little late! I'm working really hard, and have a chunk of it written already (: Thanks for reading, and to everybody who has reviewed. I really appreciate it! Enjoy!**

* * *

><p>Chapter 7<p>

_As President Snow awards us with our crowns, I see the hatred that he has for the two of us seeded deeply in his eyes. But especially when he looks over at the Fire Girl. It is obvious that he is blaming any kind of rebellious act almost solely on her, and I'm just the unlucky fellow who happened to be accomplice at the time._

_The danger feels much more real now that he is looking at us, almost threatening us with his eyes. "Give me a good show." He seems to be challenging us. "Convince me that it was just a foolish act of children."_

_Haymitch's words come back to me at that time. "I can only give you the idea, the rest is up to you."_

_And now I know what I have to do. I become detatched from my body as it is happening, just letting my self-preservation instincts take over and after the crown is placed firmly on my head, to the soundtrack of the crowd's applause in the background, I cross over to the dark haired girl that is standing next to me._

_I look her in the eyes, hoping she understands what I am trying to do, and grab her face between my hands. My lips crash down on hers before she has time to protest, before either of us fully understand what is going on_

_And then, we burst into flame._

* * *

><p>Fire and smoke envelop us as we stand in the center of the stage, our bodies pressed together. My first urge is to jump back, save myself from the flames. But I notice the fire is not hot. I realize it must be synthetic fire, similar to the kind on the District 12 entrance ceremony uniforms. Our stylists must have wanted to give us an extra edge. I wonder if they knew all this was going to happen. I feel suspiciously set up.<p>

I feel Katniss stiffen in my arms, probably surprised by both the flames and the kiss, but her eyes open and search out mine. I try to convey to her that I'm trying to save my life as well as hers without words, and whether she understands that or not, she seems to realize something is going on. She closes her eyes and I can tell she is trying to participate in the kiss, and perform for the crowd.

To say that the kiss was awkward was an understatement. I don't know where to put my hands so I settle them uncertainly on her hips. Hers rest on my biceps. Our lips are hard against each other, both fighting to be dominant in the kiss. Our bodies are at an awkward position. But from the cheers of the crowd, I can tell that they are unaware of any of those details. I am suddenly thankful for the flames, which seem to disguise anything strange going on.

The kiss only lasts for a few seconds before we step away from each other. Katniss meets my eyes again, and I can see suspiscion and curiousity in her gray eyes. I break the eye contact, and a feeling of emptiness settles inside my chest. This was not how our first kiss was supposed to be.

I puzzle over that thought for a second. What was our first kiss supposed to be like? Why do I think that I was entitled to a first kiss at all? Why would I want a kiss from the girl who was my enemy?

I don't have time to dwell much on the subject before I am being whisked off the stage by some producers all dressed in black. Katniss and I are seperated, and by the sigh I hear before she is taken away I knew she wanted time to question me. It'll have to wait until later.

Before we're taken off the stage though, I catch a glimpse of Snow's face. He has a half smile on his face, but it doesn't reach his eyes. _So that's how you're going to play it, huh? _He's saying. _It'll take more than just one kiss, but keep it up._

The emptiness sinks in even more. I have no free will anymore. Winning the games has made me a slave. A slave to Panem, the president, and to a future with a girl I barely know. Suddenly, I feel like a weight is being pressed on me. It's too heavy to carry, but too important to let go. I am exhausted.

I am taken back to my prep team who immedietly get started cleaning off the ointments and makeup on my face. We are scheduled in an hour for an interview with Caesar Flickerman that will air to all of Panem tomorrow afternoon. I can tell my team is hanging back, and notice that their fingers are feather light as they wash around my eyes. They're afraid of another outburst. Good.

Soon, I am back to my original discolored, natural self. But I'm only permitted to enjoy the clean, free state for a few minutes before more paste and lotions and ointments are being smeared all over my body. I sigh and decide to just sit back and let it happen instead of getting upset this time. I'm too tired and I am feeling emotionally drained. I don't think that I could be upset now if I tried. It would take up too much effort.

I wonder why they need to have cleared me of all the first sets of lotions when they start to slather on the cream that makes my skin all the same color. It seems like a waste of product to me. But I hear them mumbling about everything having to be just perfect, and decide to ignore the resourceful part of me. I just suffer in silence instead. Soon, I am looking like a 'normal' human being. As normal as normal gets in the Capital. I am glowing, after all.

But there's no time to rest, and I am handed off to Xari and within a few minutes I am being dressed and prepared for the interview. For the interview, Xari has decided to put me in a less intense outfit than for the ceremony. I get just a typical black suit with a slim lapel and gold accents. The red is gone out of my hair, and it is just its normal blonde. Coupled with a gold tie and cuff links, I don't look too horribly out of place compared to regular people, at least back in my district.

Xari doesn't put a lot of makeup on me this time, just a faint eyeliner that makes the blue in my eyes pop. My hair keeps the stylish spikes, but is a little less angular this time. I don't look fearsome, I look almost approachable. I balk a little bit when I realize I look slightly like the Loverboy, but decide to push that out of my mind. What good would it do to be upset about it anyway?

I turn suspiciously to Xari. "Does this outfit catch on fire?"

She laughs as she straightens my tie, her eyes crinkling in the corners. "I designed this outfit, and I am less gifted with pyro than Cinna. That's Everdeen's stylist, he designed your ceremony garb. And Everdeen's. They were made to react to one another's. It was really excellent work, actually."

I groaned a little. Of course he did. Apparently I was expected to share everything with Katniss Everdeen now. Even stylists.

"So there won't be any surprises with this suit then?" I ask. "Thank God."

Xari chuckles again, giving me a once over, making sure not a hair is out of place. It isn't of course. "Now I never said that. But to tell you would be to spoil everything!"

I growl at her, but she seems unafraid. She's worked with Career Tributes for years. She's not frightened by me. I hear a knock on the door. Must be time to go, time for the interview. I try one last attempt to get her to tell me what kind of trick could be concealed in my outfit, but there's no such luck. She's not saying a word.

A man with aqua tinted skin and a purple mohawk comes in to lead me to the studio. Conveniently, it is not very far away and so we can walk. I hate cars. But even so, I am still winded by the time we get there. I suppose that almost dying might take more than two days to recover from, but I am still frustrated by my endurance. I resolve to start hitting the training center or gym wherever we are at dawn tomorrow.

We get to the studio, there is suddenly a thousand hands all over me. People attempting to fix my already perfect hair. Pulling on my clothes, wanting to talk to me. I push all of them out of the way, doing my best intimidating face and walk towards a more secluded spot of the backstage. I notice Katniss and Haymitch standing on one side, talking to somebody who looks to be a producer of sorts. I don't really want to interact with either of them right now, tired as I am. Being around Haymitch is draining and trying to sort out the confusing thoughts that involve the fire girl are really tiring.

I barely recognize Katniss from the bow weilding girl in the arena. She is wearing a pale gold dress that looks like liquid was poured over her body and then dried in a shiny material. It flows over her curves and pools on the floor. It's fitted to her body, but the neckline isn't low so it looks more elegant than sexy. It sparkles gently when she moves, even in the darkly lit backstage. Her hair is pulled back from her face in her signature braid and she has gold toned makeup lightly dusted over her bronzed skin, but it's not so much that it takes back from her natural features.

I feel uncomfortable approaching her, because she looks amazing, and I don't want to think she is attractive. I don't want to remember her body pressed against mine earlier that day, no matter how awkward it was. I certainly don't want to want to kiss her again. But I do. So it all just pisses me off.

I slouch close to the pair, but not all the way over, hoping that maybe I can avoid confrontation with the two. No such luck. Haymitch is walking over to me before I am even settled and Katniss is trailing behind him.

"Ah! There's the man of the hour!" Haymitch says clapping me on the back. "I was glad to see that you took my advice during the ceremony. It was a great show. Loved the fire."

I keep my face set and look away. I don't want to put up with him right now. He'll just piss me off even more, and I need to stay composed if I don't want to have a mental breakdown in front of the cameras.

"Eh," Haymitch shrugs. "Don't want to talk, huh? Oh well. Just make sure to keep it up. You're doing amazing."

He stumbles off, and I suspect that he has had a bit more to drink than the last time I talked to him. He leaves Katniss and I standing awkwardly, not quite knowing what to say to each other. The last time we had a conversation alone was when I was screaming at her about freedom before falling off the cornucopia. Between then and now, I almost died, was literally reconstructed from a bloody mass, was threatened by the president, and told that if there was any chance to save our lives, I was going to have to fall in love with her. Or at least do a damn good job playing a lovesick fool.

"Don't think I don't know what you're doing," Katniss finally speaks. "I could see it in your eyes today." She is standing next to me, but when I glance over, I notice that she isn't looking directly at me. Her eyes stare off towards the set where we will be filmed. I turn my eyes in the same direction, my body tense. I don't owe any explanations to her.

She doesn't need one. "I did the same thing to save Peeta and I's lives in the arena," she says. "I pretended to be in love with him to get sponsors so that he wouldn't die."

This doesn't surprise me, although it does throw just a little bit of a glitch in the whole star-crossed lovers 'Cato and Katniss' deal. People are already going to be rooting for the star-crossed lovers 'Peeta and Katniss'. It's going to be hard to convince all of Panem that Katniss was just trying to save his life, which is the truth. It's going to be even harder to completely convince them that we're in love, which isn't the truth. I don't really want to think about her kissing Peeta Mellark either. I internally shudder.

I don't tell her any of this though, I just set my jaw and stare forward, trying hard to not let my eyes break rank and wander over to her. I think by now I've come to terms with the fact that she does hold some strange force over me, and I don't need to do anything to further that.

'_Unnatural forces move us all.' _I almost whip around to see if Haymitch is whispering in my ear, but I know I'm just having a slight flashback of our conversation ealier today.

An uneasy silence stretches out between the two of us for a few seconds. But then Katniss turns towards me, and I can see that she is starting to get angry by the fire that is burning in her eyes.

"You know, we can do this, where we pretend to be pals and maybe kiss a few times on stage," she whispers angrily, leaning close to me so that nobody can hear her but me. "But that's only going to fool people for so long. The least you could do is at least talk to me offstage! We need to get to know each other, because it looks like we're going to be spending a lot of time together whether we like it or not."

She huffs at the end of her outburst, and I can tell that she is not used to having that kind of anger course through her. I wonder if it's a little bit built up from the games.

There's another odd beat while I consider her rant. I realize it doesn't really do to try to be distant with her. I can keep my distance emotionally and still be cordial with her. I was raised to show some semblance of respect to most people. Until the games started.

_Both of you are going to have to do all you can to save your sorry asses from something that's much worse than anything that can happen to you in the arena. _Damn that drunkn bastard! Get out of my head! _You owe her just as much as she owes you._

"Sorry," I finally mumble. "Communication isn't my strong point, forgive me."

I know I sound sarcastic, but it's the best I can manage right now. Katniss doesn't seem to be extremely caught up on it, by one quick look towards her, I can tell that she's happy that I at least said something to her. Well it's a start at least. I give her a tentative smile, and she responds with one, although neither of our smiles really reach our eyes.

Out of no where, a swarm of crew members overtake the two of us, chattering wildly, and pushing and prodding us towards the stage. It must be time for the interview. I look over and catch one more glimpse of Katniss before the crew can push her out on stage. She catches my eye.

_Here goes nothing_. She mouths, and I feel the emptiness settle into my chest again at the thought of having to perform for Panem again. I almost feel too tired to pretend to be somebody I'm not, but then I don't really know who I want to be right now.

I brace myself, and squelch down all of my exhaustion and my doubts as I find myself being pushed under the glaring lights. I am seated next to Katniss on a love sofa and she settles semi-comfortably in next to me. The lights are blinding, and I can barely see anything.

Caesar Flickerman's theme music starts to play, and I feel Katniss's hand slip into mine and give it a small squeeze. I exhale a long breath. Here goes nothing indeed.

* * *

><p><strong>So there you go! Cato is starting to warm up to Katniss just a little bit. I'm sorry for all of you that are jumping for them to just go and fall in love, but I feel like that's not really his style (; He can't resist her charms forever though! Interview next chapter, I'm sure it will be lots of fun! Thank you once again for reading.<strong>

**I really appreciate all of the many reviews I've been getting! Thanks for taking your time to respond and give me feedback. I read every one, and really enjoy hearing what you think.**

**-H**


	8. Chapter 8

**I am _so_ sorry that it's taken so long to update. Honestly, I've had this written for almost two weeks. Unfortunately, my appendix burst and I had an emergency appendectomy... And through a bunch of complications, I've been in the hospital for a while. So this is actually the first I have felt up to getting on and posting it. So I really apologize ):**

**I know a lot of you were really looking forward to the interview, and I've done my best. But again, with not feeling well, I don't know if it's really everything you've hoped and dreamed.**

**Updates might be kind of slow for a few weeks, just until I'm feeling better and well enough to type some more. So I am sorry once again, I'll do better to get stuff up within a few days though.**

**Thanks for all the encouraging reviews for the last chapter though! I'm glad that everyone is enjoying the story so much (:**

I stumble out on to the stage, and for a moment the lights are blinding. They are different from the hospital lights, which were bright and penetrating. They are bright, but warm and they make me the urge to just lay down and sleep even more pronounced.

Caesar Flickerman is on stage, doing his introduction. I can tell he is trying to contain the excited crowd. They want to know what was going on in our heads. They want to know why we did what we did. Nobody knows yet, and they are shimmering with excitement. Plus the kiss earlier just must have been the cherry on top of the sundae. They can't wait to see why I kissed her. Was there a secret love affair going on? What about Peeta?

I don't want to answer these questions. I don't want to do anything for these people. I already got the honor for my district. Why do I need to drag it on? Another part of me doesn't want to hear the answer to Katniss's questions. I don't want to talk about love, and most of all, I don't want to talk about Peeta.

I'm sure all these questions will be asked and more, and I feel weary as we sit down on a small love seat where Katniss is almost sitting in my lap. I am tense. I am not used to being this close to a person in proximity. I am not used to being touched at all. She is clearly not anymore comfortable than I am, as she shifts herself nervously for a minute, crossing and uncrossing her legs trying to appear easy.

Soon the interview is starting. Caesar turns and gives us one of his trademark huge smiles, and I can tell in his eyes that he is worried for us. He is going to do all he can to give us an interview that makes the two of us look very good. I know that he developed a special liking for Katniss, the noble girl who volunteered only to save her sister. And me, he was probably just afraid of.

"Well, well, well," Caear starts. "At the beginning of the games I have to admit, I didn't think that I would be sitting here talking to the two of you. I don't think any of us did, right folks?"

He turns towards the crowd and gives them a smile. I can see every one of his bleached white teeth. I try not to let the perfect exterior and stature of the man annoy me. The crowd chuckles along with him, eating his infectious personality right up. As if it wasn't people's lives they were laughing about. Just two contestants on a show that managed to win.

I try to smile and look like I think it's funny too, I can see Katniss smiling softly behind me. But I don't think it looks very convincing by any means. Plus, I doubt the crowd would believe it anyway after the menacing person they saw before the shows. Unless my performance lately has been enough to convince them that I have a heart buried somewhere inside of me.

The laughs simmer in the crowd for a few second, and then Caesar turns back to us. "So you know, there are a lot of questions that Panem is just dying to hear the answers to. So we'll go ahead and get started."

He turns towards me, and I see his eyes travel over me, almost assessing me. Trying to decide what juicy detail he can get out first. I almost want to do something to wipe the smirk off his face. Shout or growl or throw something. But I reign it in, realizing that President Snow is probably watching this broadcast from somewhere in his palace.

Katniss shifts uncomfortably beside me. I wonder if she can feel how tense I have become.

"Cato," he finally starts. "How are you feeling?"

The simple question takes me off guard. But I realize he's probably wanting a little more than 'fine.'

"You know, for just coming out of a near death experience, I'm feeling pretty good," I don't really know what words are leaving my mouth, but I know its my voice speaking them. It is similar to the time when I cornered Katniss on top of cornucopia and the speech about freedom just started coming out. A self-preservation instinct, per se. "I'm still pretty tired. All these events are taking a lot out of me. And I can't say I'm much of a dog person anymore."

This earns a chuckle. Oh, I'm being funny now. I didn't mean that as a joke. It was literal. I just got mauled by a pack of mutant dogs, which the Capital furnished with the eyes from the corpses of the dead tributes, and they are finding humor in that. Good for Panem.

"Well we'll try to keep this short for you, Cato," Caesar says, all teeth and grins. "That way you can go get a good night's rest. I just have a few questions for you and your lovely partner here."

My anger only bubbles more, and I fear with my swinging emotions and my lack of sleep I might just snap. I feel like if I was any more tense I would break in half, and there has only been one question asked.

Suddenly, I feel a cool hand slip into my clenched one. I look down and see that Katniss has put her hand in mine. She must have noticed my control slipping. But it works like a charm, her hand distracts me and my rage disappears.

What is more distracting than the fact that she is touching me, is that the area where she is touching me seems to be giving off light as if a thousand diamonds were embedded into the surface of our skin. I hear the crowd gasp and one look towards the monitor shows that they can see it too. Our clasped hands look like a halo of light is around it, and dancing in shimmering patters around us. Good for Xari. She may not be a pyro expert, but apparently she can still use lights.

I see Caesar give a small smile and sigh. He's getting his material. The next question is for Katniss. "I see that you and Cato have become on friendly terms?"

"Yes," she replies. The light is flickering off of her face, the angles of her cheekbones looking even more emphasized. Angelic.

"How did that come about?" Caesar continues. "I have to admit, for a moment there in the arena, you both seemed like you were pretty savage towards each other."

Something flickers in Katniss's eyes and I can tell that she is trying to decide exactly how to answer that question so that it is believable, yet doesn't give us away.

She decides to go with Haymitch's story. "We had an alliance going the whole time. From the practices in the training rooms. Our mentors planned it for us. They thought if we paired up, we could pick out all the tributes quickly and quietly, and the final show down between the two of us would be epic. So when Haymitch told me he wanted me to ally with Cato, I wasn't very happy. That's why I ran away in the beginning. I wanted to keep my individuality. If I was going to die in the games I wanted to die as Katniss. And something about pairing up with the Careers didn't seem like… me."

Ouch, there's a stab. We weren't good enough for Fire Girl, huh? I shake my head a little bit. I know that's the truth, but I don't like to hear it still. Although that sounds very believable, I have to admit.

"Ahhh," Caesar says, and I can tell that he is captivated by her story. He is leaning forward in his chair slightly, as I'm sure the entire audience is too. "So what changed your mind finally?"

"Well," Katniss continues, leaning into me just a little bit. The light grows brighter. "When Cato saved me for the first time in the arena, I realized he probably thought we were still under alliance. And I felt like I owed him my life. Plus, he probably thought we were under some agreement. And I know it's not very predator like of me, but I thought that if he was holding to his end of the deal, I might as well hold to mine too. Then he spared me again, and I just couldn't do it. My mom is a doctor, and when I saw him on the ground, with the dogs over him, I couldn't kill him. My instincts told me I needed to save him and I needed to do whatever I had to in order to help. I couldn't hurt him, I just couldn't."

She is looking at me at that point, and I can feel my cheeks start to heat up. I try my best to keep her gaze, but it is hard for me. I don't like feeling this uncomfortable.

"But what about Peeta?" Caesar almost whines. "It seems you and Cato are a bit more than friends at this point. We all saw that kiss on television, am I right folks?"

There is a cheer and wolf whistle from the audience, and then a round of applause. This is what they came to hear. Gossip of the century.

Katniss swallows hard, and I can tell it still isn't easy to talk about Peeta. It probably will never be. Something in me feels sorry for her, and I find myself squeezing her hand. Almost comforting. If I, Cato Verrucosus am capable of offering comfort. The light shimmers slightly around our hands and reflects on both our faces. Katniss looks up at me again, and I see gratitude in her eyes.

"I knew that Peeta was in love with me," she starts. "And when I thought he was dying, I wanted to make him feel at rest. I was trying to be kind to him. So I tried to make myself fall in love with him. For his sake. But it was never more than friendship on my end. Peeta was the best guy I ever met in my life. But we were never meant to be together."

A small tear slips down her cheek, and she looks very pretty. I don't know whether she means those words or not, or if she is just trying to convince herself. An 'awww' comes from the audience and Caesar offers her a handkerchief and she wipes her eyes. I can tell she is embarrassed. She isn't the type who likes to have her emotions broadcast all over the television either. I squeeze her hand again. I like feeling like the stronger one out of the two of us.

"But it looked pretty real," Caesar says, then. "It looked like you were in love with Peeta just as much as he was in love with you. Are you really that good of an actor?"

There is a long drawn out silence this time. Katniss is definitely weighing her answer in her mind, not quite sure what or how much she should say.

Finally she looks straight at me, in my eyes and says, "I wasn't only thinking of Peeta while we were in the cave. I was imagining it was Cato there with me, instead."

A small gasp goes through the crowd, and it feels like a small jolt to my heart. That was good, solid story spinning, right there. For a second, I even thought she was telling the truth. But I know better. Suddenly I feel very hot on stage. It's definitely about time for me to leave.

But Caesar isn't done yet. In fact, he's just getting started. "And what about you Cato? I think we all saw that you were the one who initiated the kiss this morning. Were you also thinking of Katniss in the arena?"

Time for me to prove what kind of actor I am.

I stroke the back of Katniss's hand with my thumb. A slight tingle goes through my arm. "She definitely was in my head a lot." Not a lie. Although most of the time, it was because I was imagining how I was going to kill her in the end.

"I don't know what it is about her," I continue. "There's something about her that gets stuck in your head. I didn't know whether I wanted to beat her, or whether I wanted to do everything possible to make her win. Obviously, you see which one won out."

Caesar smiles at me. An understanding smile. He has noticed that special thing about her too. "But what moment was it that you first started thinking about her?"

The words flow out of my mouth; I need no time to consider it. "When I saw her volunteer for her sister. She was so heroic, and a part of me respected her. And going into the games, that made me nervous, because I knew that she was a crowd favorite. But now that we're both out of the games, it feels like something else. More than respect, now that I don't want to kill her anymore. And I don't know what it is, but I like it, and I want to see where it goes."

There's a large 'awwww' from the audience again, and I feel Katniss's hand tighten around mine. I can feel her eyes boring into my skull, curiously. She's curious about why I just said those things. And she's curious why none of it seemed like acting.. And all of those words I just said were true. I'm curious about that too.

I don't meet her gaze. I don't want her to look into my soul. She's already pulled more than one reaction out of me today that I didn't expect. I'm afraid if I look at her, I might burst into tears. It wouldn't surprise me anymore.

I can hear Caesar ask Katniss another question, but I am not listening. When did I stop thinking of Katniss as an enemy? Was it during the games? This morning? Or do I still have some feelings of competition towards her. Will we both snap at some point and try to take each other out?

I start to feel dizzy and I release Katniss's hand and bring mine to my head. I close my eyes and try to block out all the noises and buzzing that is suddenly in my ears. I try to focus on what Caesar and Katniss are talking about, but I find I am having trouble concentrating.

Colors start to look distorted, and I feel like I'm going to throw up. I'm too caught up in my new revelation, and the exhaustion that suddenly encompases me and won't let go. I don't even think about the fact that I am on national television. Honestly, at this point, I can't even remember.

I hear somebody say my name, and then I feel my body move as someone shakes my shoulder, but I am past the point of caring. I couldn't answer them even if I tried. So I let my over exhausted body slide to the floor, and start to close my eyes.

I have no control over my body anymore. I haven't for the last few days it seems. I feel a hand on my cheek and a soft voice by my ear, and I lean towards it. I see a bright light flare up in front of me, and then I can see the soothing darkness that has become my friend in the past few days, and go towards it.

Bliss.

**Sorry for the rushed ending. It's the only part I wrote today so I'm sorry if it seems not to really make sense. It'll work in, I promise you (;**

**But anyway, thanks for being such great readers! I'm really enjoying hearing what you think.**

**Thank you! **

**-H**


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

I am in the arena. The sky is dark around me. I know that it is time. The Capitol is wanting me to finish it. My District is ready for me to come home. It is time to find the District 12 tributes and end this for good.

I almost fly to the cornucopia, I am running so fast. I can hear something behind me in the forest. It sounds like a pack of dogs. Somehow I know that if I would stop to look, I would see Clove's eyes among them. I don't turn to look. I run as if demons are snapping at my ankles.

I bound on top of the cornucopia and wait. I know that Lovergirl will be joining me shortly. A cannon fires. I know it is the boy. I know for certain. In a matter of seconds, the fire girl is sprinting into the clearing and on top of the cornucopia with me.

I waste no time in jumping on top of her, pushing her down against the chilling metal. I grab her by the throat. I am going to stop this once and for all. There will be no trouble if I can just get rid of her. Then Panem will be happy. Then President Snow won't want to kill me.

But I know I have to look in her eyes, and when I do, I fly off her. Everything I know is rocking. I can't kill her. She is the one person that I can't exterminate. She is my weakness. Weaknesses are not tolerated. I cannot be tolerated anymore. I stumble at my realization and I trip off of the cornucopia.

I fall down, down, down. And then the pack is on me, pinning me down. And I am _screaming._

I awake suddenly, the scream ripping out of my chest, echoing off of the walls of the small room. I thrash wildly against the restraints that are holding me down before realizing they are just sheets wrapped around my wrists and legs. I quickly shake them off and then sit up, putting my head between my knees. I breathe deeply in and out and notice that the whole room is vibrating gently.

The room looks similar to the hospital room I woke up in before, but it is a bit smaller and the lighting is not quite as harsh. The whole room seems to be humming and I notice that there is the feeling of moving forwards. I notice one window in the room and notice that, although it is dark outside, there is a slight flicker on the wall from movement. I would guess that I am on a train.

I grimace when I see I am hooked up to a number of machines again. I am growing to hate needles. I notice a long red mark running perpendicular across my abdomen. That's new. It's definitely there, but it is fading. It looks as though it is a scar that hasn't been completely healed by the Capitol's fancy creams.

I run one of my fingers over it hesitantly, just as Brutus strides into the room. His jaw is set, his eyes dark. He sees that I am awake and leans out of the door, snapping his fingers rapidly, without saying a word. A nurse comes bustling in, worry on her face. It seems Brutus is still able to intimidate most people. As he should be able to.

"Cato." He nods and then takes a seat, saying nothing more. He has never been a particularly talkative person, but I know that he is trying to be comforting just by being here.

"What happened?" I ask the nurse, knowing I probably won't get an answer from Brutus, who is gazing out the window, a vein popping out of his neck. He is tense. I suspect that he is tired about worrying about me.

"You passed out during your interview with Caesar." She says, writing a jumble of numbers from the machines on my chart. "Your heart rate was off the charts. Turns out your injuries weren't quite as healed as we wished them to be. You managed to cause an aneurism in your celiac artery. Which is a major problem, obviously. You were bleeding internally quite severely but we managed to get in and operate."

My head swam. I was familiar with anatomy, as it was part of our training, knowing which veins were the best to sever for a quick death. Would the consequences from my stupid decision to let Katniss go ever stop causing me grief?

I sat up, trying to get out of the bed, needing to stretch my legs, needing to hit something to release the rage that was steadily swelling inside of me.

The nurse firmly pushed me back down in bed, ignoring the fact that I had at least a foot and 100 pounds on her. "No, you stay in bed." She said flatly. "As long as you can see that scar on stomach, you're confined to bed rest. Doctor's orders."

She gathered her charts and then left, probably to report back to said doctor. It was better that she get out quickly. Bed rest? The rage spiked. I have never felt like such a weak invalid. The Hunger Games were supposed to make me stronger, not turn me soft.

My hands curl around the metal railings on the bed, probably to keep me from rolling off with the train's momentum. I squeeze hard, and notice that the metal dents around my fingers. At least this is something, I haven't lost all of my strength.

Brutus clears his throat from the chair, and my eyes snap over. I'd almost forgotten that he was there at all.

"You look a damn mess," he says severely, scooting the chair so that it is closer to my bedside. I see his eyes flick over my patchwork skin and down to the scar that seems more visible to me now that I know that it is the factor that is keeping me confined in bed.

"I feel fine," I snap at him. "The last thing I want to do is to be in this bed for one more second. I want to go crush something."

Brutus's eyes are stern as he glares at me. "You will do as the doctor says, Cato." His voice is dangerously low and firm. "You barely got out of the games in one piece. It would make absolutely no sense to have survived that just to die by doing something stupid like rupturing a vein. You will stay in bed until you were better."

I knew he was worried about me. It shows in his eyes, although he would be appalled to know that I was able to pick up on it. I just know him well after 13 years of training with him.

I sigh and sink back against the pillows. There is no arguing with Brutus when he gives a direct order. His authority is unquestionable. "Fine. Can you at least tell me where we're going?"

"District 12."

I close my eyes, feeling rage course through me. The last place I want to go right now is into the heart of the District that produced not only two of my brother's murderers, but also the one girl that I can't seem to kill.

"When will we get there? Please tell me I don't have to be there for longer than a few hours." I try to keep the anger out of my voice, but that has never been my strong point.

"In a few hours. But we won't start the tour until you can get out of bed. Probably in a few days."

"I have to be in District fucking 12 for more than one day?" I sit up again, ready to jump out the train window, remembering at the last second that I am supposed to be in bed. "Jesus Christ, why didn't the fucking dogs just kill me? "

"You are being a child." Brutus stands and begins to move towards the door. I can tell that my attitude is putting him on edge and he has reached his limit. Before he leaves, he turns to me. "You will do as your told, and you'll do so with a good fucking attitude. Stop acting like a spoiled brat. Life is a gift. You've battled with death twice in 2 days, start acting like you're grateful. Otherwise, you're right and you might as well have died in the arena with all the other weak, worthless people."

I turn my head, not wanting to meet his eyes. I know that he is right.

"You have the chance to make District 2 proud. I will _not _have you acting bad towards any other district. You must make sure that you give no reason for District 2 to be disrespected. We may be monsters in the arena, and we both know we're better than the other districts, but we earn the respect that we get, do you hear me?"

I nod curtly, still not meeting his eyes. I see him stretch his arms out of the corner of my eye. He turns his neck from side to side, cracking it. Something he does when he is trying to contain his anger. He must be really pissed to release the torrent of words on me, being as he barely speaks more than two sentences together.

"Cato," he says and I reluctantly look towards him. I can see the fury in his eyes, but I can also see something else, relief. "I'm glad you survived, if that's worth anything from you. Make your family proud."

And then he is gone. I know that is the closest I will ever get to heartfelt moment from my hardened mentor. I don't really know what to do with it. It does comfort me a little bit to know that even someone as ruthless as Brutus can have emotions, too. It makes me consider all that's been going on with Katniss. Perhaps having some kind feelings towards her isn't totally abnormal. Perhaps my world isn't as rocked as I think it has been.

Almost as soon as I am beginning to consider this, Haymitch pokes his head into the door. He gives a wide, toothy grin when he sees that my eyes are open.

"Ah, Muscles," he drawls. Does this man ever not have alcohol in him? "So glad to have you back with us."

He makes a motion outside of the door and yells over his shoulder. "Katniss! Cato is awake."

She is there moments later, her cheeks tinged pink and her eyes full of worry. I roll my eyes. She is ruled by emotions. They are clear on her face. What a pitiful person.

"Cato." My name still sounds so sweet on her lips. I shake my head, clearing my thoughts. Focusing on keeping the emotions to a minimum like Brutus does. "How are you feeling?"

"Restless," I answer honestly, keeping a cool and level gaze on her. "They've confined me to this bed. I'm ready to get back to work."

"Back to work, yes…' She gazes out the window and I can see a kind of peace in her eyes that was never there while she was in the Capitol. I realize it must be as comforting for her to be home as it is uncomfortable for me to be here. She probably doesn't feel that being back at home is work at all. I find myself wondering if she is nervous to see her family. Peeta's family.

Before I let myself imagine the painful ordeal that reuniting with Clove's parent's is going to be, Haymitch clears his throat loudly.

"Well, you two can definitely take advantage of the fact that Cato is stuck in bed."

Both our eyes snap up to him, horrified. Just what is he suggesting? I know we have to put on a show for the audience, but doesn't he think that is going a little bit too far? A cold sweat showers over me at the idea of intimacy with another person.

He laughs at both of us, a loud obnoxious belly laugh. "Oh, teenagers will always be teenagers," he says. "I didn't mean it in that way."

I try not to look at Katniss, but I can't help but notice that she is looking at me out of the corner of her eye. When I catch her gaze, she looks away quickly, her cheeks tinged pink. I am tempted to ask her what she is thinking about, just to make her uncomfortable, but I hold my tongue.

"What I meant," Haymitch continues, leaning against the doorframe. "Is that you guys can use this time to get your story straight. You have a couple days before you have to face any crowds. So you need to have a little more of a foundation than just words. Get to know each other."

I grimace. The last thing I want to do is talking about lovey dovey stuff with Katniss. Especially after the awkward moment that just passed between us. I do look at her this time, and she looks like she's going to be sick. Maybe she's regretting pulling me out of the arena. It was more work than she bargained for. She is probably thinking about how much nicer it would have been if she could have just come home and done the tour by herself and then retired to her quiet life.

I know I'm thinking that. It would have been easier to do this alone, or not do it at all. I hear Brutus's words echoing in my head about how life is a gift, and I try to tamp my feelings down and focus on the bigger picture. Katniss seems to be having more trouble putting her uneasiness aside, though.

"I think Cato needs to rest, I'd just be in the way if I stayed…" Katniss tries to say, but Haymitch will have none of it.

"Not gonna work, sweetheart."

To hell with it, I decide to give it a try. "I'm not really in the mood to be social and talkative, sorry. Just had a little bit of a surgery, you know…"

"Too bad, kiddos," he laughs again and looks between us. I swear that he gets some kind of sick pleasure about how uneasy the both of us look. "You got yourselves into this mess, and there's a lot of people that'll get dragged down with you if you go down. So you two are officially to be locked up together until Cato is off bedrest, got it?"

Both of us begin to protest, but Haymitch just laughs. He's made up his mind.

"I'll be back to bring you meals!" he says cheerfully, starting to make his way out of the door.

On a second thought, he turns back and pokes his head back into the room. "Oh, and you guys don't have to be _too_ physical if you want, but it probably wouldn't be a horrible idea to practice those kisses. You won't have fire around you every time you're trying to cover up an awkward kiss. Cheers!"

And with that, the door closes and I hear it lock behind him.

Shit.


End file.
